Beating the Odds
by jackiechica
Summary: Draco is proud of his pureblood image...but when he falls ill, will it turn out to be his downfall? Ron never thought he would ever care about the Slytherin ferret. But then why is he so worried about him? Chapter 13: The big day has arrived.
1. Chapter 1: Nosebleeds

* * *

Jackie: Welcome to the revival of the renowned fanfic Beating the Odds! I'm your hostess and author for the night, Jackie Malfoy. 

RakitWhore: And I'll be your coauthor, RakitWhore! Please keep all words and reviews inside the fic at all times, and there will be no smoking as this is a flame-free zone.

Draco-muse: ((looks around, confused)) Um, questions...A) Who is RakitWhore, B)Where are Agent Blorange and Takeru-muse, and C) Why the hell are we starting over?

Jackie: A) RakitWhore is my new co-author, because B) Agent Blorange is off in Stonerville somewhere with his beloved Squishy, and Takeru-muse is...well, I'm not sure, he hasn't shown his face in almost a year.

RakitWhore: And C) All the grammatical and factual errors in the old version would make an illiterate flinch!

Jackie: HEY! Well...yeah, he's right. Plus, I'm trying to work in a new dynamic that wasn't in the original coughslashcough

Draco-muse: ((Paling visibly)) You wouldn't dare.

Jackie: Sorry babe, popular demand and all. Ahem Don't own it. Never did, never will, please don't sue. All you'd get would be a refurbished crapbox passing itself off as a computer and an IBM Stinkpad that can't run anything but Windows 98...it isn't worth the legal fees.

Draco-muse: So, en...wait. RakitWhore, since this is your first fic, would you like to do the honors?

RakitWhore: My pleasure. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 1: Nosebleeds 

* * *

Somewhere on the British Isles, hidden from view and protected by powers incomprehensible by the common man, stands a castle-like fortress known as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Inside this massive structure, a ghost who doesn't even realize that he's a ghost lectures to a group of eleven-year-old students. However, the students really don't seem to notice that their History of Magic professor is a ghost...in fact, they seem rather bored and uninterested.

"Now, over the years," Professor Binns droned, "the lines of pure-blooded wizarding families have become weakened from lack of new genetic material, and this new generation of pure-blood wizards and witches are showing higher rates of diseases and genetic disorders than previous generations...many are dying or have been seriously disabled by things such as cystic fibrosis, epilepsy, muscular dystrophy, cancers..."

* * *

In another classroom, down in what used to be a dungeon, a class of older students is studying a completely different subject.

"Longbottom, kindly watch what you're doing with that root!"

Professor Snape was at his wits end trying to deal with poor Neville, who, as usual, had completely ruined his potion and was on the way to destroying his cauldron. This scene was far from unusual, and the Gryffindor and Slytherin 6th years paid little notice as they worked at their cauldrons with their assigned partners.

At a table in the back, a redheaded boy was busily measuring out ingredients from various vials and bottles, while a visibly annoyed blonde was adding them to the cauldron after carefully scrutinizing the measurements.

"Weasley, the potion calls for 3 milligrams, not three grams!"

"Well excuse me, Malfoy. I'm not accustomed to reading in this dim light...I'm not used to the dungeons like some people."

"Forget it." Draco sighed and measured out a small portion of the greenish-yellow liquid and added it to the steaming cauldron. As Draco stirred, Ron turned away from his partner and crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe one of these days I'll get partnered with a person instead of a slimy ferret like you!"

Draco raised an eyebrow and a haughty smile crossed his face. "And maybe I'll get paired with someone with half a brain. But then again, maybe one of Neville's potions will work right without Granger's help. We both know Snape...what are the odds of..."

It took Ron a few seconds to register that Draco had stopped talking. Ron turned his head and saw Draco covering his mouth and nose with both hands, a look of shock on his face. "What's the matter, Malfoy, did you actually make a mistake? No, of course not, you're incapable of that..." Draco glared at Ron from behind his hands, then brought them down and stared at them in disgust. They were covered in blood, and there was an ever-growing smear of blood covering his upper lip. Ron felt his head swim..._I don't like blood, I don't like blood..._"Um, Professor Snape? I think we have a problem..."

Ron's sentence was cut off as Snape chose that moment to reach the table. Other students had already noticed Draco, and a chorus of "Oh my God! Gross! Eww!" has begun echoing through the room. Draco immediately covered his face again, and Ron made a valiant effort not to throw up. "Go clean yourself up, Mr. Malfoy," Snape growled quietly. Draco nodded his head slightly, and dashed out the door, leaving it to shut with a resonating bang. Once he had gone, Snape turned to glare at Ron, who visibly paled and began sputtering out excuses. "Professor, I didn't do anything! I was just sitting here and he--"

"Five points from Gryffindor for lying. One more word and I'll make it ten." With a swish of his robes, Snape turned and made his way back to the front of the class, glaring at every student he passed. Eventually, the faint buzz of whispering and mean looks ceased as everyone hustled to finish their potions before the end of class. Ron began stirring the potion angrily, fuming over his unfair treatment.

_Stupid Malfoy. I wonder how he pulled that nosebleed off. Bet he did it on purpose just to get me in trouble. I wouldn't put it past him. Malfoy's always trying to get us in trouble for nothing. Bloody hell, he must get some sort of rise out of it. That crack about half a brain...the bastard! Sometimes I wish he would just die and do everyone a favor._

* * *

In the boy's lavatory down the hall, Draco was bent over with a paper towel held over his nose. "I hate these bloody things," he growled, his voice muffled by the paper. Removing the paper, he checked to see if the flow of blood had stopped yet. Satisfied that it had, he turned on the tap and rinsed off the stain as he scowled in irritation.

_I bet one of the ruddy Gryffindors cursed me or something...probably Ron. He's not smart enough to learn it on his own though...mudblood or those idiot twins probably helped him. How he got to be a prefect, I'll never know. He can't do anything right, and he'll never be useful for anything. _

As he left the bathroom, Draco tossed the towel into the garbage, but stopped to put a few in the pockets of his robes. _Just in case...after all, I've been getting these all week..._

* * *

Draco-muse: You know, I just thought of something...Agent Blorange was the story's self-proclaimed biggest fan. What's going to happen now that he's gone?

Jackie: Um, well...

Draco-muse: I mean, RakitWhore can't possibly hate me as much as he did...can he?

RakitWhore: Of course not...I hate you more.

((Draco-muse pales and sweatdrops))

Jackie: You'll have to excuse my friends; they're all male and could care less about anything that doesn't have boobs.

Draco-muse: ((gulp)) I'm in trouble.

Jackie: Don't worry sweetie, he's just jealous that you're cuter and more girls like you.

RakitWhore: . . . What?

Jackie: Uh, um...Stay Tuned!

RakitWhore: And please review while a have a talk with my coauthor.

((Jackie sweatdrops))


	2. Chapter 2: On the Field

Jackie: Dude, I was such a horrible writer two years ago.

RakitWhore: Yes. Yes you were indeed.

Draco-muse: I don't know, I think you wrote really good stories.

Jackie: I'm not talking about the stories. I'm talking about the structure. I hope that now that I've spent several hours on this chapter, it isn't as painfully horrible as it used to be...although I'm still not quite happy with it.

Draco-muse: Even without Agent Blorange, you put yourself down. Snap out of it!

RakitWhore: I'm just glad I wasn't here when this was originally written. Speaking of originals, the original Harry Potter story is not hers. If she did, the series would be called Draco Malfoy and the Obsessive Fangirl.

Jackie: Watch it. I brought you into this fic, and I can take you out.

Takeru-muse: And she will, too.

Jackie and Draco-muse: TAKERU-MUSE!

Takeru-muse: Yeah, I'm back, I was stuck on L410. Damn construction...anyways, now that I'm back...Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 2: Dizziness

* * *

Grey clouds blanketed the sky, threatening rain as Ron strolled around the grounds. He was still upset about the incident in Potions class with Malfoy, swearing and had been swearing up and down to anyone who would listen that Malfoy did it to himself just to get him in trouble. Hermione, in her usual logic-before-feelings way, had given him all sorts of facts and figures about random nosebleeds being caused by stress or many other things. _I guess that could be it...although what that pampered ferret has to be stressed about, I'll never know._

Looking up, he found himself outside the Quidditch pitch, and caught a brief glimpse of a green and blond blur dive down out of sight. _Speak of the devil._ The Slytherin team was well into their practice time, and he took a moment to watch their technique. Everything about the Slytherin team was rough. The keeper was practicing using his broom as a bat, trying to aim at the other players. The chasers were flying at breakneck speeds while passing the ball over and under each other. The beaters were using levitating dummies for target practice as they knocked the bludgers around. The seeker...

_That's funny_, thought Ron. _Malfoy usually flies a whole lot faster than that._ It was true...the blur Ron had seen earlier, on further inspection, was actually traveling quite a bit slower than seekers usually needed to. It also seemed like whenever the Snitch took a sharp dive or curve, Draco's path was a lot slower and careful. When he did make one final dive after the golden ball, it took him several swipes to grab onto the ball once it was within reach, and he almost slammed into the ground before he managed to pull his broom up. As he hovered near the ground, the tiny Snitch fluttering in his hand, Ron couldn't help but notice the way the boy looked. His long blonde hair had fallen into his eyes, and there was a flush to the boy's pale skin, which glowed with sweat and heat. Ron realized what he was thinking, and shook his head as if to dislodge the image from his brain. _No, not Malfoy.__ Not any bloke...I think...I hope..._

Practice ended, and the other Slytherins left the field. Draco, however, had stayed on his broom just a few inches above the ground. As Ron walked closer, he could see that there was something not quite right about him. The flush he had seen from a distance now looked more severe, and Draco's eyes were screwed up like he had a headache. He was still panting from the minor exertion, and his breathe was quick and shallow, as if he couldn't fill his lungs fast enough. _He doesn't look well at all. Maybe he is stressed._ As Ron neared the pitch, Draco slowly touched down, and Ron saw him falter as he shakily walked towards a bench on the sidelines. Draco then sat down and leaned forward, holding his head between his hands. Ron approached the bench, and he shook all thoughts of Draco's appearance out of his mind as he seized his opportunity.

"What's the matter, Malfoy, you allergic to sweat?"

"Leave me alone, Weasely, I don't bloody feel like it right now," Draco muttered, not even looking up. "Aww, boor ickle baby," Ron cooed sarcastically, "Does widdle Dwaco have a widdle headache?"

"What's the holdup, Malfoy?"

Ron and Draco both looked up to see Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor team standing on the field in front of them. Draco shot Harry an icy stare out of one unflinched eye and sneered. "I'll be gone in a minute, Potter. I'm not going to try to steal any of your pathetic plays...as if we needed them."

Ron noticed that as Draco spoke, his hands were trembling ever so slightly against his face, and that he never moved his head. He only turned his eyes, which had taken on a distinctly glassy look. _Malfoy can't be nervous about confronting Harry, he's done it since first year. But then, what's making him shake like that?_

"Malfoy, unless you're out of here in 30 seconds, I'll have Madam Hooch escort you off the field!" Harry drawled through clenched teeth. Draco slowly stood up and glared at Harry for a second, and said, "Fine, I've got better things to do right now anyway." Draco's voice wavered a bit as he spoke, and his eyes seemed to glaze over for a second, almost like they went out of focus momentarily. He then stalked of, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team went back to discussing strategy. Only Ron saw Draco sway unsteadily before continuing off around the corner.

Harry's voice calling everyone to practice broke Ron's vigil over Draco's entrance, and he mounted his broom and kicked off into the sky. Ron still held the position of keeper on the Gryffindor team, and he ran his first few practice drills with ease. Harry then flew over and called to him. "Hey Ron, I'm going to work with just the chasers today...you can go on in." Smiling, Ron landed his broom just as the first few raindrops sprinkled against his forehead. After putting his broom up in the shed, he headed out of the pitch and towards the school, trying to think about anything but Malfoy.

Somehow, though, that's all that he could think about. His thoughts kept drifting back to how sick Draco had appeared before he left. _Stop worrying. Hermione's probably right, he's just stressed out over something. Hermione's never been wrong before. And why am I worried anyway? He's a slimy greasy ferret who deserves to get sick. Anyway, I shouldn't worry about it even if he is sick, he'll make such a fuss over it that anything more than a cold would get treated immediately...and Pomfrey can cure anything even if I do catch it..._

As Ron turned the corner, his thoughts were immediately cut short as he spotted a green-robed figure crumpled on the ground. Rushing over, he carefully turned the person on his back, and his fears were confirmed as blonde hair fanned out over the ground. Draco was completely unconscious, and his skin had turned from the deep flush of earlier to a deathly pale color. He was barely breathing, and Ron quickly placed his hand on his neck to check for a pulse. It was weak...but it was still there. He knew he should get him inside, but he didn't want to move him in case he was hurt.

Ron looked around, frantically searching for anyone who could help. The team wouldn't be able to hear him over the sounds of practice, and no one else was in sight. Panicking, he began screaming for help, hoping that somebody, _anybody_, would hear him.

Luckily, someone did hear him and came rushing to help. Unfortunately for Ron, it was Professor Snape. Kneeling down next to the fallen boy, he growled angrily at Ron, "What happened?" "I don't know sir, I was going in and I found him and I didn't see it happen and he was like this when I got here..." Ron rambled nervously. _Dammit__ Malfoy, why are you always getting hurt around me?_

Snape was ignoring Ron's frenzied ramblings as he checked for signs of life, then scooped Draco's light, limp figure into his arms. Draco didn't react at all to the change in position or altitude. "Follow me," Snape ordered as he rushed Draco into the school. Ron didn't have to be told twice, and was right on Snape's heels the whole way.

_Malfoy...__Draco__, what's going on?_

* * *

Takeru-muse: So, what'd I miss, besides Jackie learning how to write properly in the English language?

Jackie: Well, RakitWhore replaced Agent Blorange...

Draco-muse: So you don't have your little friend to diss me with anymore...

Jackie: And, by popular demand, this is now going to be a little bit of a slash story.

Takeru-muse: ((blank stare)) I was gone that long?

RakitWhore: Actually, she started this venture today, and she decided on the revisions about two days ago.

Draco-muse: But Agent Blorange has been stoned continuously throughout 2004, so yeah, you were.

Takeru-muse: Well...that just goes to show you, you can't even blink when Jackie's involved.

Jackie: That said...stay tuned!


	3. Chapter 3: Headaches

> Jackie: Another chapter, another show...
> 
> RakitWhore: You are such a dork.
> 
> Draco-muse: And slow! Two days to edit three chapters?
> 
> Jackie: Hey, I'm gonna do one more tonight; I don't care if it's 12:30!
> 
> Takeru-muse: ((grinning evilly)) I seem to recall someone telling me that I was slow, about this chapter, in the original.
> 
> Draco-muse: It's not me, she's the rusty one. Besides, you're the guru of editing, Mr. CSMH.
> 
> Jackie: Don't own it. Otherwise, Book 5 would still not be out. Although that might have been a good thing...
> 
> Draco-muse: Enjoy! And don't get her started on Book 5...

* * *

> Chapter 3: Headaches

* * *

As Draco slipped back into consciousness, he noted from the sounds around him that he was no longer outside. His eyes fluttered open, but a searing pain forced him to squeeze them shut again. The bright light that shined through his pale eyelids made his head pound painfully, and he groaned as he tried to turn his head away from the offending lights, but as he moved, a wave of dizziness flooded over him. His eyes were burning with fever, but he shivered under the thin hospital sheet.

"Nice to see you've joined us, Mr. Malfoy."

Professor Snape's voice was barely audible, but to Draco, it sounded unbearably loud. He winced as pain stabbed through his head once again. He opened his eyes to a tiny slit, and saw Snape sitting next to the bed, and Madame Pomfrey heading towards him holding a medicine bottle.

"Headache, dear?" she said quietly. He nodded slightly, then immediately dropped his head backwards as the slight motion sent the room spinning. She placed two aspirin in his hand, which he downed shakily. "Thanks," he said groggily.

"Do you remember what happened?" she asked, placing the aspirin bottle on the table next to the bed. Draco tried to brace himself up on his elbows, but the effort and effects proved not worth the trouble. "Kind of…"

--- FLASHBACK ---

"Fine, I've got better things to do right now anyway."

_Damn Potter. Damn Weasley. Damn Gryffindors. Damn headache._

Draco's legs shook dangerously beneath him as he stood and walked away from the Gryffindor team. Normally, he would have attributed to the workout he'd just been through, but the jackhammer inside his head said otherwise. He stumbled once or twice, but hoped that nobody had noticed.

_I cannot get sick. No Malfoy curls up and dies because of a few nosebleeds or a headache. No matter how bad it is...no. I have to stay in top form. I have to keep my grades up, and keep practicing so that I can finally beat __Potter__ and win the Quidditch cup, and...and..._

Suddenly, Draco stopped walking when he was 10 feet away from the school's entrance. He couldn't walk another step—the world had begun spinning all around him. He swooned and dropped to the ground as his eyes lost focus. As the ground rushed up at him, he lost his breath, and began breathing faster and faster in a futile attempt to fill his spasming lungs. He hit his knees, and the force of the landing sent searing pain through his entire head. His arms shook as he tried to hold himself up, until his breathing stopped and his eyes rolled back in his head.

He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out as his arms buckled beneath him.

--- END FLASHBACK ---

Ron listened nervously as Draco recounted the incident. He really didn't want to be there; the longer he stayed, he felt, the more likely that Snape would find some way to blame him for this. However, a tinge of worry had surfaced in the back of his mind as he saw how ill the Slytherin prince really was. Another feeling accompanied it...guilt. It really was his fault that Draco had fallen...had he not been taunting Draco, Harry never would have noticed them, and he could have rested until he felt well enough to leave.

As Draco spoke, Madame Pomfrey placed her long thin hands on Draco's forehead and cheeks, clucking nervously. "I probably shouldn't have given you those aspirin. You, my dear, most certainly have a fever. What did you eat today?"

Draco started to answer, then stopped, puzzled. "I...nothing. I haven't been hungry at all lately. The last time I ate was...at least three or four days ago."

Snape cocked an eyebrow at his favorite student, and Ron's mouth dropped open in shock. _Three or four days? No wonder he's dropping all over the place!_

"Well, that certainly clears up some things, doesn't it?" Madame Pomfrey asked sternly. "Even if you aren't hungry at all, Mr. Malfoy, you should at least _try_ to eat something a few times a day. You've probably developed some form of anemia or hypoglycemia. Hopefully you're not diabetic. In any case, you should start eating small snacks or meals every few hours, in order to…"

Draco had just started to zone out Madame Pomfrey's lecture, when he felt an all-too-familiar wet, creeping feeling on his upper lip. His hand shot up to his face, and he felt warm blood drip onto his fingers. "Bloody hell!" he said, perhaps a little too loudly. "Not again!"

Pomfrey stopped her lecture and produced a thick handkerchief from her apron. Taking it from the nurse, Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned forward, breathing through his mouth. He was hoping she hadn't heard his little interjection, but no such luck. "Again? How many of these have you had, Mr. Malfoy?"

"He had during class yesterday, but I assumed it was caused by a classmate," Snape said, glancing (a little guiltily) at the nervous student beside him." Ron tried to keep a smirk from forming on his face, which wasn't as hard as he thought. He was too concerned about the way Pomfrey was reacting to feel smug about Snape's pseudo apology.

"I've had four or five before that," Draco interjected from behind the cloth, "and one earlier this morning in the dormitory." He wiped his face quickly as he removed the tissue from his nose, sniffing uncomfortably, and Madame Pomfrey used a quick charm to clean and sterilize it. She then bent over the bed, eying the blonde with a curious expression on her face.

Once again, she reached out her hand, but instead of his forehead, she gently rubbed her fingers along the side of his neck. Draco winced as her long fingers rubbed over one spot just below his right ear. When he jumped, she quickly removed her hand and shook her head slowly. _This is not good,_ Ron thought, unconsciously shaking his head in unison with the nurse, _I've never seen Pomfrey so worried._

"I'm going to have to speak to a colleague about this. In the meantime, Mr. Malfoy, I suggest you get comfortable…you're not going anywhere tonight. If there's anything you need, speak now." Professor Snape stood slowly and straightened his robes. "If you'll excuse me, Madame Pomfrey, I have a class of Second Years that are most likely destroying my classroom at this moment, and I need to see to them." With that, he gave a reassuring nod to Draco and made his way to the door.

Ron quickly tried to follow him out, but the Potions-master turned and blocked the exit. "Mr. Weasley, you are to stay here. I don't blame you for this, nor do I blame you for the incident in my class yesterday afternoon. However, you need to stay here with him until we know for sure what's wrong with him." Ron started to protest, but Snape raised his hand to stop him. "You will be excused from the rest of the day's classes, and I will make sure that you are filled in on what you missed. That was not a request, Mr. Weasley, you will stay here."

With that, Snape slipped out the door of the hospital wing, slamming it shut with a loud, echoing bang.

* * *

Ron sat in a chair on the far end of the hospital wing, arms crossed over his chest, as far away from Malfoy as he could get. _Slimy ferret. Even when he doesn't get me in trouble, I'm punished on his account. One of these days, he'll know what it feels like to be in my position, to be constantly at the butt of everyone's jokes, to always get blamed for everything he does._

"Ron, dear, do me a favor, will you?"

The nurse's voice broke Ron's mental revenge plots. He looked up to see her holding a tray of food, and as hungry as he was, he knew it wasn't for him. "I'm waiting for a message from a doctor in London; can you get Draco to at least eat part of this? The last thing we need is for him to be falling over again."

Just then, the fireplace in her office surged, and a voice called to her. Madame Pomfrey sat the tray down in Ron's lap, said a quick "That's a good boy," over her shoulder, and shut the door behind her as she addressed the glowing face. Ron scowled as he carried the tray over to where Draco lay resting. The privacy curtain had been drawn around him, and Ron slowly pulled it open and stepped inside. Draco had fallen asleep facing away from Ron, towards the window. As Ron walked around the bed, he heard Draco groan in his sleep. Staring into Draco's sleeping face, he was amazed at how incredibly frail the young Malfoy looked. His cheeks had once again taken on the light flush of fever, contrasting the sickly pale complexion of the rest of his face. His eyes occasionally twitched in response to some pain that he was feeling, and his mouth pursed sporadically. _I almost wish I knew what he was going through…if he's in as much pain as it looks like...if there was someway for me to help..._

As if on cue, Draco stirred slowly and opened his eyes a fraction of an inch. "What do you want, Weasley?" he asked, the old Malfoy drawl creeping back into his voice bit by bit. "Madame Pomfrey told me to give you this." Ron set the plate down on Draco, who promptly pushed it away. "I'm not hungry."

Scowling, Ron pushed the tray back to him, and leaned over the smaller boy. "Haven't you been listening to Pomfrey? Now, either you eat this under your own free will, Malfoy, or I will personally shove every bite down your scrawny little throat!"

Draco was a bit shocked by Ron's vehemence on the matter of a few bites of food, and also by the larger boy's close proximity. _He's got beautiful eyes...what? Where did that come from? _ Shocked back into the present, he once again shoved the tray away and sneered. "And who are you to give me orders? I don't take direction from weasels like you, thank you very much." He turned his fact towards the curtain, intent on ignoring Weasley until he gave up and went away.

Ron had other plans. He simply got up and went to the other side of the bed, getting right in Draco's face, and suppressing the tiny voice in the back of his head that was screaming at him to either slap him or snog him, but to make up his mind already. Instead, he growled "And I am certainly not used to looking after a slimy ferret like yourself, but I also don't want to pick your arse up off the ground again, so EAT!"

"Fine then, don't get yourself up in a snit about it, Weasley." Glaring, Draco picked up the fork and took a few bites of the food on the tray. Ron was taken aback at how quickly he had worn Draco down into taking his orders. _Maybe he's more tired than I thought._ Soon, Malfoy set down his fork and pushed the almost-empty tray across the bed back to Ron. He looked Ron straight in the eye. "Satisfied?"

Ron smirked and took the tray off Draco's chest. "Now, was that really so hard?"

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but shut it immediately as a distressed look crossed his face and he looked around frantically. A moment later, he had leapt off the bed and around the curtain. Ron couldn't see what was going on, but he could hear that Draco's dinner had not stayed down very long. Shaking his head, he said quietly to himself, "There is something very wrong here."

* * *

Once Draco's nausea had ceased, Ron helped him get back to his bed. Although Draco made several snide comments about not wanting Ron touching him, he did thank him for his help once he settled back in the bed. Both boys sat in tense silence until they heard the fire surge once again in Madame Pomfrey's office, a sign that the consultation was over for the moment. Several minutes later, the curtain slid back and the nurse walked into their corner. "Dr. Chantelle needs a blood sample for testing...I'm very sorry about this." Draco and Ron looked at each other, confused, and then back at Madame Pomfrey. Being pureblood wizards, and only having been exposed to medi-wizards growing up, neither one had a clue what a "blood test" was, nor how it was performed. They got a big clue, though, when Pomfrey pulled a long syringe from her apron. Dizziness and all, Draco jumped about 2 feet out of the bed. "What in Merlin's name is that for?" The nurse thought fast, and then smiled. "Oh, sorry, wrong instrument. I meant to grab…HIS ARM RON!"

Ron got the hint and held Malfoy's squirming arm down long enough for Madame Pomfrey to jab it underneath the skin of his arm. The look on Draco's face was priceless…shock mixed with surprise, and a little discomfort. The real shock came, though, as the nurse began withdrawing the plunger and the blood flowed out of his vein into the syringe. Draco stared, fascinated. Ron gulped. _I don't like blood, I don't…like…blooood…_

Both the nurse and Draco stopped and looked as Ron's grip on Draco's arm loosened and he sank to the floor.

* * *

Draco-muse: Jackie? Where are you?

(( Jackie is rolling on the floor having hysterics ))

Takeru-muse: I thought it was in bad taste to laugh at your own jokes.

RakitWhore: You are such a dork, Jackie, you know that?

Jackie: Hee hee hee...Sorry, I love that part. I personally hate needles with a never-ending passion, but the last time I got stuck, I was so out of it that I just kind of stared at the needle as it happened. And being scared of blood is nothing to be ashamed of...I just find it funny.

RakitWhore: Dork.

Draco-muse: Stay tuned!


	4. Chapter 4: Lymph Nodes

Jackie: It's One AM...do you know where YOUR muses are?

RakitWhore: I know where yours are...unfortunately.

Draco-muse: Another one down...we're on a roll tonight.

Takeru-muse: I still have you beat on editing. You'd have to finish one more tonight to tie my record.

Draco-muse: Can we do it, Jackie?

Jackie: Unless I fall asleep at the computer (again), we may even get through two more tonight...leaving tomorrow open for writing a new chapter.

Draco-muse: HOORAY!

Takeru-muse: No fair! When I was doing it, she had a 10 o'clock bedtime.

RakitWhore: Sucks to be the early still-living-at-home muse, don't it?

Jackie: Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 4: Lymph Nodes

* * *

Ron and Draco sat in uncomfortable silence for well over an hour. Draco's headache had eased, but only to the point of a tolerable throb. He felt slightly less dizzy than earlier, but fast movements still made his head swim, so he remained as still as possible. He hadn't yet gotten over the shock of the blood test, and continued to touch the large bruise forming on his arm tenderly. Boredom began to overcome him, and he started counting the dots on the ceiling, trying to push his random thought about Ron from his mind.

The boredom was starting to get to Ron as well. His mind wandered to subjects ranging from the Transfiguration test that he was now going to fail, to exactly how many points Snape had unfairly taken from Gryffindor over the years. The one thing he tried not to think about was the blonde lying a few feet away from him. He hoped that whatever this was would be over and done with in a few days, maybe a week; some kind of virus, maybe mono. Anything that would get him away from Draco and away from the very disturbing thoughts that kept trying to break into his mind. However, all the signs paired with a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach told Ron that this would be something that would change their two young lives forever. The last thing Ron needed was a common experience with Draco Malfoy.

"Weasley." Draco's voice broke the silence, and Ron glanced up in acknowledgement. "I want you to promise me something."

Ron cocked his head, puzzled. Malfoy, asking something of him? "What would that be?"

Draco swallowed hard. "I want you to promise that you won't tell anyone about this, no matter what it turns out to be."

Ron shifted his weight to his elbow, and looked straight into Draco's face. "Why would I? I mean, what would it look like if people found out I spent an entire day looking after you?"

"I'm serious, Weas…Ron. I mean it. If it gets out that I'm not entirely well, or worse…I just don't want people to know about it." Draco's eyes pleaded with Ron's, and a pang of guilt once again hit him dead on. _He actually used my first name. He really does mean it._ "Alright then…Draco. I won't tell a soul."

Draco smiled at him in thanks...an actual, soft smile. But as soon as the look appeared, it was wiped off his face and he stared back up at the ceiling.

The sun outside had long since sunk under the horizon. Inside, most students were studying or socializing in their common rooms before bed, and there was a constant hum of energy and activity. In the Hospital Wing, however, there was almost no activity whatsoever. Once again, Draco had fallen asleep, feeling like he was completely drained all energy, and with the knowledge that there were 4,783 dots on the ceiling that he could see. Even Ron had drifted off into a light sleep in his chair by the time Madame Pomfrey returned from her office. "Alright boys, we're going to make a little trip tonight."

Ron rubbed his eyes and straightened himself in the chair. "What d'you mean?" Draco had managed with some difficulty to prop himself up on his elbows. "Is it far?" he asked, not completely sure of his body's new limitations. He didn't want to have to walk too far.

"Well, technically it is far, but then again, it isn't. Mr. Malfoy, you have an appointment to see Dr. Kyra Chantelle at The Royal Marsden Hospital in London tonight." As she spoke, she began clearing a path away from the bed to her office.

"And how, exactly, are we supposed to get to a muggle hospital all the way in London?" Draco asked, trying to retain his trademark haughtiness behind an exhausted and nervous voice. "I mean, we can't exactly walk through the door and, poof, we're in London. I doubt they're connected to the Floo Network."

The nurse smiled slyly. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong. You haven't learned, in all your time as a wizard, that there are unlimited ways to get where you need to be?"

Ron and Draco gave each other puzzled looks as Madame Pomfrey crossed the room to what appeared to be a normal closet door. "Come on then," she called them, "we don't want to be late." Ron stood up and stretched, then stopped mid-yawn. "Why do I have to go, too? It's Malfoy's appointment." The nurse put her hands on her hips. "If he passes out again, do you honestly think that I'll be able to get him back here on my own? Dr. Chantelle isn't very big either. I need you in case of an emergency." Rolling his eyes, Ron offered Draco a shoulder to lean on as he climbed out of the bed, and they both walked over and stood in front of the "closet".

When Pomfrey opened the door, Ron and Draco both took a step backward. Instead of the expected clutter and supplies, there was instead a swirling, almost psychedelic cloud-like portal. Draco blinked rapidly and started to fall backwards; Ron stepped behind him and caught his shoulders. "Just close your eyes," he whispered, "and you'll be fine." Draco nodded and shut his eyes, but felt himself blush as Ron's breath grazed his ear. Ron himself was trying to figure out why he'd whispered. Both shook off the strange feelings, and with Ron supporting Draco from behind, stepped into the portal, followed by Madame Pomfrey.

* * *

As soon as they stepped through, Draco and Ron found themselves in a normal-looking muggle exam room, except there was a large microscope set up in one corner attached to a computer. The room itself was all white except for the light-blue trim and the surgical steel instruments. There were three stools with dark red upholstery spread about the small room, as well as a large exam table covered in thin white paper.

Standing in the middle of the room was a small, owlish-looking woman in a pair of lavender scrubs. She had her honey-blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun on the top of her head, and wore thin half-moon glasses. She was smiling as they walked through the portal, as if she'd been expecting them. She reached out a hand to Madame Pomfrey as she stepped forward; her voice was pleasant and soft, and her accent told of time spent in France as well as Britain.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Chantelle, it's nice to see you in person again Madame Pomfrey!" Draco raised an eyebrow. The young doctor smiled at him. "I attended Hogwarts my last two years in school to intern with Madame Pomfrey." Ron's jaw dropped. "You're a witch?" She turned to Ron. "Yes, in fact, I am. I just prefer to work in muggle medicine rather than in the magical world. Now, which one of you is Draco?"

Draco took a step forward, and she returned her eyes to his. "You? Alright then, why don't you hop up on the table and we'll try and figure out what's going on with that body of yours." (A/N- After a whole year of no French class, I can still hear the Allez, Viens! lady clear as a bell. Think her voice.)

The paper crinkled audibly beneath him as Draco pulled himself onto the cold table, and Ron took a seat on one of the stools close by. Draco looked like a little child at his first check-up (well, actually, it _was_ his first real muggle check-up). He was glancing around the room nervously and swinging his legs back and forth off the side of the table. Ron too was looking around nervously, taking special notice in the various posters on the walls, depicting everything from a cross section of the human brain, to a particularly colorful one featuring blobs of red, white, and purple, and a cross-section of bone.

The examination began pretty routinely, with the whole tongue depressor bit and everything. Draco was pretty indifferent about everything, except the thermometer. He hated holding that damn thing under his tongue for two long minutes, and constantly fidgeted with it in his mouth, causing some funny faces and getting great laughs out of Ron. When Dr. Chantelle finally took it out, he still felt an indentation on the bottom of his tongue where it was, and it made his mouth feel strange. She shook it and read the mercury level. "Uh oh...38.7. You have quite a fever there." She wrote this down on her little clipboard, then started checking his eyes and ears, and began asking questions. "I hear you've been having headaches, Draco. About where do they hurt the worst? What time?"

"Have you had much of an appetite lately?"

"Have you noticed any difference in your sleep patterns? Any unexplained fatigue?"

"I heard something about nosebleeds; how often do you get them? How long do they last?"

Ron couldn't help but think that, as innocent as they sounded, her questions were just a tad too specific for comfort. _She knows what's wrong with him__, I just know it. Why won't she just come out and say it?_

She wrote all of his answers down on her clipboard, and then set it down on the table next to Draco. "Tilt your head to the left, please," she asked him, and he did. Instead of running her fingers down his neck like Madame Pomfrey had, she placed two fingers directly on the spot beneath Draco's ear. Once again, Draco winced. "Does that hurt, sweetie?" she asked, removing her hand. Draco nodded slightly.

"Raise your arm now, please." Once again, he did as she asked, and once again, her fingers found the one spot that made Draco wince. "Your lymph nodes are swollen; that's not a good sign. Why don't you lie back on the table for a moment?"

Draco swung his legs back on to the table and laid down. He was able to see Ron sitting at the head of the table, who smirked at him in a way that was almost comforting. It was familiar, it was mocking, and it was distracting. Draco was about to say something, when Dr. Chantelle placed one hand firmly on a spot just below Draco's ribs on the left side.

"OOWW!"

Draco slightly doubled over as the doctor removed her hand. "Ouch. What was that?" he asked, rubbing his side tenderly, and noticing for the first time that even the slight touch of his hand was sending jolts of pain through his side.

Dr. Chantelle was scribbling notes onto her clipboard again. "Evidently, it was a swollen spleen…another not-so-good sign for you. I'll tell you what…I'm going to need another blood sample, and a marrow sample. After that, you're free to return to school until tomorrow morning. By then, I'll have your answers."

Draco paled as he watched Dr. Chantelle pulled various needles and substances from her cabinets. She first took another blood sample, this time cleaning his arm with alcohol first. She saw Draco start at the sight of the needle, as well as the fresh bruise on his arm, and smiled, remembering her first exposure to hypodermic needles. "It helps if you don't look while it's happening. Look at your friend instead."

"What friend?" Draco said as he looked around. _Oh, she thinks that Weasely's my friend. _Draco stared at Ron, and it was Ron's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Doctor's orders," Malfoy said with a smirk, which lasted approximately two seconds before he felt the needle go in. Then it was Ron's turn to smirk. "Not so tough now, are you, Malfoy?"

"All done."

Sure enough, it was over sooner that Draco expected. He turned back to see her strapping a cotton ball in a thin bandage over the crook in his arm. "Now for the marrow sample. This one's a little different." She snapped off her latex gloves and donned a new pair. "I need you to pretend that you're a model for a second. Lie back down and kind of pull your pants down so that I can get to your hip...like this." Dr. Chantelle hooked a finger under the elastic of her scrubs and bared a section of her hip. "You don't have to expose anything...I just need to have access to your pelvic bone."

Draco lay back down and did what the doctor had demonstrated; Ron snickered, then blushed, at the mental image of Draco modeling a bikini in one of Fred and George's old magazines that they kept hidden from their mum. Draco shot him a nasty look. Dr. Chantelle sat down on another stool and slid over to the table. "Okay, first, I'm going to give you a local anesthetic. It'll feel like a bee sting for a second, but then you won't feel anything but pressure, okay?"

Nodding nervously, Draco wondered what a bee sting felt like…then found out as the tiny needle entered the sensitive skin of his hip. Draco bit his tongue uncomfortably, trying not to move in case something went wrong. Soon, the area surrounding the needle went numb, and he felt no pain as the larger needle penetrated skin and muscle, but he felt lots of pressure as the needle drew out a teaspoon of bone marrow. His face contorted in discomfort, but he tried to remain as still as possible. The doctor smiled as she snapped the elastic up on his pants and patted his side as a cue that he could sit up. "You may be a little stiff tomorrow, but it's only temporary. Other than that, you're done for today!"

Ron stood up to help Malfoy jump painfully down from the table. He started to walk away, when Dr. Chantelle's hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Where do you think you're going, Mr. Weasely?" Ron's eyes got wide as he turned slowly, and saw her standing with an empty syringe in the hand that wasn't holding him back. "You haven't ever had an exam, either, and it would be best in this day and age if you had a couple of basic tests run, too. Sit down."

Nervously, Ron climbed up on the table. As the doctor rubbed his arm with alcohol, he instinctively locked eyes with Malfoy. It was Draco's turn to smirk once again, as Ron's eyes flinched as the needle went in. "Not so tough now, are you, Weasely?"

"Shove it, Malfoy."

* * *

Jackie: Wow...I must have gotten better as time progressed. That chapter took no time at all to fix.

RakitWhore: I know I'm supposed to continue in Agent Blorange's footsteps, but...girl, you're a good writer. Just because you were bad during one summer doesn't mean you suck completely!

Draco-muse: THANK YOU! I've been trying to tell her that for years.

Takeru-muse: Not as long as I have.

Draco-muse: Seventy-two reviews.

Takeru-muse: S...s...seventy? Two? Oh my... ((drops to ground and starts sucking his thumb))

RakitWhore: Must you degrade him so?

Takeru-muse: He's more of a challenge than you are.

RakitWhore: Shove it, Malfoy.

Jackie: Lame. And you say I'm the dork. Well...stay tuned!


	5. Chapter 5: Revelations

Jackie: Movin' on up...to the next chapter...

RakitWhore: She doesn't use songs in the fic, so she sings them at random points in the author's notes.

Draco-muse: Give her credit, it's way past her bedtime.

Takeru-muse: Thought she didn't have a bedtime.

Jackie: Um, did I say I didn't own it last chapter? Don't think I did...so, I don't own it, and didn't own it last chapter either.

RakitWhore: Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 5: Revelations

* * *

As sunlight filtered through the window in the Gryffindor boy's dormitory, a sleepy redhead stirred beneath the blankets of his four-poster. Ron blinked and stretched, emerging from a strange dream. In it, Draco had been wearing Quirrell's turban and chasing him with a giant hypodermic needle, but kept falling over. _Maybe everything was a dream, _Ron hoped. _Maybe Malfoy never got sick, and we never went to that hospital, and everything is back to normaOW!_

As Ron propped himself up, the bruise on his arm from the needle sent a twinge of pain through his arm, refreshed his memory of the previous night. Ron glared at the bandage. _Nope, not a dream.__ Damn it._

"Where were you last night, Ron?"

Ron glanced up at Hermione, who was giving him her patented _I'm not your mother but I might as well be_ look. "I was around," he muttered. He remembered his promise to Draco.

"Around? As in, where? You were out well past curfew, Ronald Weasely, even if you are a prefect. If I had caught you sneaking in…"

"I'm not a baby, you know, you don't have to treat me like a child or something! Besides, I had a professor's permission to be where I was." He usually didn't snap back like that, but after the night he'd had, Ron's nerves were frayed. Hermione looked at him, wide-eyed in shock. Ron simply stared back at his plate. He didn't look up again until he heard a slight commotion from the Slytherin table.

He turned in time to see Draco jump up and run towards the exit. _No, not again…well, at least he's eating._ Ron started to go after him, but then realized that it would look strange for a Gryffindor, a Weasley, to go running after Draco Malfoy, as if he were worried or something. _But__ I am worried..._

Instead, Ron continued to pick at his food for a few moments as people began whispering about Draco's sudden departure. Casually, he stood and walked out the door, hearing bits and pieces of gossip along the way.

"Did you see that? Bet his Dark Mark started burning…"

"I heard he's been getting sick. Hopefully it's lethal."

"Bet someone poisoned his food…"

Once out of the Great Hall and away from prying eyes, Ron picked up his pace and hurried to the nearest bathroom. Inside, he could clearly hear that Draco probably did feel as if someone poisoned his food. Ron waited until the wave had passed before speaking. "Can't blame me for that one, Malfoy, I wasn't anywhere near you." He heard the toilet flush and saw Draco limp out of the stall, rubbing his head. "As much as I would love to blame this on you, Weasley, I have to agree."

As Draco rinsed his mouth out, Ron looked him over. He certainly looked better than he had yesterday, but that wasn't saying much. His face was still paler than usual, but the color was slowly creeping back into his cheeks. His eyes were once again sparkling pale blue, instead of the dull, lifeless grey they had been for the past few days. _Okay, maybe it's some sort of stomach flu that he's getting over. Case closed._

As he made his way out of the lavatory, Ron once again noticed the slight limp in Draco's step. "What happened, did you fall again, Malfoy? We've got to get you lessons in grace."

Draco smirked. "Remember when she said I'd be 'a little stiff' this morning? 'A little' my arse! I can barely move!" To emphasize his point, Draco pulled down the waistband of his trousers, revealing a nasty looking bruise where the nurse had taken the marrow sample. Ron flinched. "Speaking of which," Malfoy continued, fixing his pants once again, "we've got another appointment in an hour or so. Don't be late." With that, he was out the door as if nothing had happened.

_Gotta love the recuperative powers of youth,_ Ron thought, and started to leave when the door flew open and Draco flew past him, slightly green in color, back to the same stall. _Here we go again…_

* * *

"It's nice to see you again Mr. Malfoy."

Hearing Dr. Chantelle's heavy French accent again was yet another reminder that the previous night had been all too real. Ron once again lounged the best he could on a stool in the corner as Draco assumed his position on the exam table. There was a kind of unrest in the air today, an uneasiness that neither boy could quite understand or shake off. Dr. Chantelle was busy hooking up the large microscope to her computer with an unruly mass of tangled cables, somehow getting them all where they needed to be. Just as she finished, a nurse stuck his head in and laid a pony envelope on her desk before quickly exiting the room.

Plugging in the last wire, the young doctor clapped her hands together. "Well then, boys, let's see what your blood tests are going to show us, now?" Ron shuddered at the memory of the needle plunging under his skin and drawing out his blood slowly and tortuously. Draco saw the fear that briefly crossed his face, and smirked. "Oh come on, Weasley, it wasn't that bad." Ron just shot Draco a dirty look.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but just then Dr. Chantelle had put the first slide on the microscope, and an image appeared on the large screen of her computer. "Now, this, this is your blood, Mr. Weasely. AB Negative, pure wizard blood. This is what yours should look like, Mr. Malfoy." Both boys stared at the screen, surprised that the mass of red inner tubes could be the red liquid coursing through their veins. "These red balloon things are red blood cells, and these little blue things are platelets, they keep you from bleeding too much. And these purple-white things, those are white blood cells. Those kill germs and fight diseases."

As she switched slides, the air of uneasiness once again flooded through the room. Ron looked at Draco and saw that, while his face appeared calm, his hands were gripping the sides of the table nervously. It was Ron's turn to smirk. Until the next slide went on.

Instead of the sea of tires that had been Ron's blood, Draco's sample was filled with oddly-shaped purple blobs. "Okay, what we have here," Dr. Chantelle drawled nervously, "is an overabundance of immature white blood cells. Instead of having a few to fight germs, your body is making too many, and not giving them time to develop, so they don't function properly." She drew a deep breath, and looked into Draco's eyes. "In this case, from your blood and marrow tests, it's called acute lymphocytic leukemia."

Leukimia. Draco and Ron had both heard that word mentioned before, but neither was sure what it meant. "Um, doctor, I know that that's not good, but what…exactly, does that mean?" Draco's voice was barely above a whisper, and he was unable to hide the fear in his voice no matter how hard he tried.

Dr. Chantelle walked over and placed her small hand on Draco's shoulder, and looked him straight in the eye. "Leukimia is a kind of cancer…"

Draco moved backwards on the table, and Ron sat straight up. She didn't have to say any more; both knew what the word cancer meant. For the first time in years, tears started to form in the backs of Draco's eyes. And for the first time in Ron's life, he wouldn't think of teasing him for it.

_Cancer._

* * *

__

Jackie: I still get sad when I read that part.

RakitWhore: I still get happy.

Draco-muse: Shut...up.

Takeru-muse: You need to go to bed, young lady.

Draco-muse: NO! One more chapter sweetie, let's beat Takeru's editing record!

RakitWhore: You are getting sleepy...very sleepy...

Jackie: ((snort)) Huh? Oh yeah, one more to go...Stay tuned! Anybody got any caffeinated gum?


	6. Chapter 6: Statistics

Jackie: Here it is!

RakitWhore: Oh, aren't we all just thrilled.

Draco-muse: IN YOUR FACE TAKERU! Not three, but FOUR chapters edited in one night.

Takeru-muse: Yeah, yeah.

Draco-muse: She doesn't own it, or the real me. Just this copy of me that resides in her imagination.

Jackie: Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 6: Statistics

* * *

Over the next few days, time seemed to come to a screeching halt for Draco. Classes seemed to drag on forever, and he no longer saw the point in even attending them. His housemates were too wrapped up in their petty, vain lives to notice anything different. Of course, a week ago, Draco had been one of them, caring only about his grades and his image. Now he felt as though there was an invisible barrier between him and the rest of the world, segregating him and forcing him to be an outsider. It was quite lonely.

It seemed that only one person was within the same invisible cage with him. Any class that Draco shared with the Gryffindors, there was always the comfort of knowing that the redheaded klutz who made up one-third of the Dream Team knew about his weakness, and yet neither pitied nor chastised him for it. At the same time, he knew his secret was safe with Ron, and that even a Weasley would have more pride than to break a confidence of that importance. Draco started to feel a new respect for his former enemy that grew every day, with every secret look and nod.

In Potions a few days after the news, Draco and Ron were paired up once again for a project. Draco was staring at nothing in particular as he chopped up his roots detachedly. Ron avoided eye contact with him to avoid suspicion, but every now and then, he would catch Draco's attention as they added ingredients or exchanged task-specific, mundane comments. Each time, Ron would give Draco a sort of half-smile, as if to say, '_Everything's going to be fine. You're strong, you'll come through this.' _And every time, Draco would give a slight nod of his head in gratitude, but still kept a worried, distracted look.

"Mr. Malfoy, I have a message for you from Madame Pomfrey."

Draco gingerly set down the knife, as if any contact between the blade and his skin would cause his secret to spill out of his veins with his blood, and made his way towards the front of the dungeon classroom. No one paid much notice to him, aside from the nauseatingly sugary gaze of Pansy Parkinson, or the usual glares from the Gryffindors. He took the note tentatively from Snape's hand without looking at him, and sullenly returned to his seat. Nothing Pomfrey had to say was good news. He slid back into his seat and sighed before unfolding the crisp white note.

As his eyes took in the clear, formal script of the medi-witch, Draco visibly paled. His hand began trembling slightly, and he set the note down on the table, slumping back as far as he could while perched on a stool, hand holding his temple. Ron looked around to make sure no one was paying attention before whispering, "What's wrong?"

Draco looked into the redhead's blue eyes, and smiled half-heartedly. His voice was barely above a whisper, afraid to be overheard by a classmate. "Chemo. Next week."

Silently, Ron added the last potion ingredient before returning his gaze at Draco. "The sooner the better," he said quietly, while at the same time knowing what that meant for Draco. Draco nodded, although the butterflies in his stomach didn't seem to agree with Ron's logical statement. He couldn't quite accept the fact that this was really happening to him yet. None of the Malfoy lineage that he knew of had suffered from anything like this. He'd only heard about things like this in books, or worse, in the obituaries of the Daily Prophet. Swallowing hard, he bottled a sample of the finished potion and walked it up to the front of the classroom.

Before he could deposit the bottle on Snape's desk, the Potions-master removed the bottle from his hands and put on the guise of carefully examining it. In a barely audible voice, Snape glanced at Draco and asked, "Are you quite alright, Malfoy? You've been acting out of sorts these past few days." Draco closed his eyes. Of course, Snape knew. Every bloody teacher in the school probably knew by now. _I'll bet even __Mrs.__Norris__ knows. Bloody feline's been eyeing me funny all week. _Mustering up the most assured and yet blank look he could muster, he answered, "How do you think I feel, sir?" and walked back to his seat without waiting for the reply that would never come.

* * *

"Come on, Ron, what's going on?"

Ron turned away from Hermione, annoyed by her constant suspicion. "Nothing is wrong, Mione, I'm just...preoccupied. Thinking about things."

Harry elbowed Ron in the ribs gently. "What kind of things, Ron?" Ron looked at Harry, and saw that old male cock-sure grin that usually came before a confession of love from the other party. Ron shook his head. "Nothing for you two to concern yourselves over. Just...stuff. Can we drop the interrogation tactics, now?"

Hermione looked down at her shoes as they walked down the hallway towards the library. "I'm sorry, Ron, we're just...worried about you. You seem worried, and you know if anything's wrong, you can always come to us for help."

_Yeah, sure Hermione.__ You can look through your little books and find a spell that'll cure __Draco__ and make it so this past week never happened. Even you aren't that clever._ "I know, Hermione. Thanks." Reassured for the moment, Hermione pushed open the heavy library doors, and the three entered the library and made their way towards their usual table. That is, until something in the corner caught Ron's eye and caused him to walk in the opposite direction.

There was a large stack of books on a table in the far back, where the Muggle books were kept, and where people were rarely seen. Behind them, hidden by the volumes, barely visible, a blonde head, eyes glued to the pages of a particularly thick volume. Draco's forehead crinkled in concentration as he occasionally jotted something down on the scroll rolled out next to him. Glancing towards his friends, and finding them occupied, he casually made his way across the library. Leaning on the bookshelf behind the overloaded table, Ron cleared his throat. "How's the research coming, Malfoy? Find anything riveting in all those books?"

Draco glanced up from the medical volume he'd been reading from, wondering how to word his response. "Actually, yes, I did. Did you know that victims of this...'curse', only have a 60-80% chance of survival?" Draco hoped that Ron didn't notice the hitch in his throat as he chewed over the word "survival". He didn't want to think about the other 20-40 percent. Ron tilted forward and began reading over Malfoy's shoulder. "That's not so bad. There are worse things out there." Malfoy sneered, more from shattered innocence than aristocracy. "Yes, but chances of victims surviving over 2 years afterwards are reversed...only 30 percent." This time, the crack was even noticeable to Ron. He nodded once and sighed. "Now, that isn't good." He picked up a book from the top of the stack, about chemotherapy treatments. "Of course, there are, 'defenses', against the full effects of the course, right?" His eyes fell on a picture of an IV in a patient's arm, and Ron quickly shut the book before the vertigo affected him. "Merlin, I hate needles," he whispered, causing a much-needed chuckle from Draco. "Why do you think I've turned into a bookworm like mudblood?" he said venomously.

Draco closed the book he was reading in frustration and let his head bang against the table. "Although I don't see any point in it. Nothing I've read so far is any help at all." He sat up and reached for another book, but stopped and let his arm drop. Ron could see a whole tide of emotions battling for supremacy behind his eyes, and automatically placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Draco turned his head and stared at Ron, and the two boys locked eyes to try to ease the pain that Draco was feeling.

Ron started to say something else, when he felt someone staring at the back of his head. He turned around, and saw Harry and Hermione staring at them. Draco quickly stood and brushed off his robes, and with a quick flourish of robes and glare at the two busybodies, made his exit. "Maybe you should look it up too. You know what Chantelle said," he added before striding out of earshot.

"What was that?" Hermione asked, hands on hips and motherly look planted on her face. "Muggle studies project," Ron lied quickly, knowing that neither of his muggle-raised friends took that class anymore. "We got stuck together, just like in Potions."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You just stood there and had a civil conversation with Malfoy, of all people, for a good 5 minutes. Not one insult. Not one biting remark. That's just not like you two."

Ron shrugged. "When you've been throwing the same insults at each other you're entire lives, it gets dull. Silent truce of sorts. We still can't stand each other." As he said it, Ron actually believed it himself. _We've been civil to each other for almost three days now. That is unusual._

Appeased for the moment, but not quite believing what they'd been told, the trio gathered their things and left the library, Ron grabbing a few of the books Draco had been looking at discretely. _I should be looking into this stuff. I'm already in deeper than I ever wanted to be._

* * *

Jackie: I would like to thank all of my loyal readers for hanging with me this long. I know I'm really bad about updating, but I'll try to be better about it from now on. 

RakitWhore: You aren't going to thank everyone individually, are you?

Draco-muse: Even I'm against that.

Jackie: No, but I will list everyone, and respond to a few special ones.

Takeru-muse: See, she learned her lesson and put these at the END this time.

Jackie: ((ahem))

The following people have submitted reviews that I truly, deeply appreciate. You guys don't know how much it means to me to receive that botfanfiction.net email with yet another glowing review. I think, to date, I have yet to receive a bad review for this story, which really makes me feel good! Thanks again to:

IcyPanther, Ladybug11, Jillian, Kitai Shinsei, Exwhyzed, moonlight2, Ezmerelda, Goten-Lupin, Renn, treachery89, me, Nyeh, totaloser, LoversLie, Diana Malfoy, Mar, Random Minion, Kiara7, Linteloteiel the Elf Slut, RaistinofMetallica, rekhal388hotmail.com, Cye's girl, hyperwriter, Dana Malfoy, scips-2006, Ayako, OtterMoon, Osiris Centauri, WildfireFriendship, Ihni, Anya Malfoy, Sykol, PlasticPandas, and Paru-chan

Special thanks go out to the following people:

Kitai Shensei: Wow...you actually reviewed MY stuff...Kitai is a great writer, you should all go read her stuff. Thanks a lot chica.

IcyPanther: Eh heh heh...sweetie, you must realize that I received your review immediately after rewriting three chapters to include slash. We were outvoted, sorry.

Mar: No, I don't have to feed my muses. They live off the energy my brain puts out when I read or watch something, and usually twist it into something perverse and strange before consuming it. Also, Takeru-muse is a reference to Takaishi Takeru from Digimon Seasons 1 and 2. Sorry to disappoint.

Osiris Centauri: You know, I was kind of upset when I first got your review about the typographical errors, but I'm thanking you so much for pointing them out, because if it weren't for that, I probably would have never given this story a second look as far as fixing it. Thank you so much, Merci beaucoup, Gomen nasai, and every other way to say thank you. People, this is what constructive criticism is supposed to look like and achieve.

OtterMoon: Thanks for the first review!

Even more special thanks go out to Ladybug11, Kitai Shinsei, RandomMinion, and Kiara7 for convincing me to turn this slashy.

Finally, the top reviewer award goes to **treachery89**. You've left 6 reviews (wow, it seemed like more before I counted), and have the best review quote of them all. Please restrain your purple crayon monster, though, and you shall have an update.

RakitWhore: Dork. If you're still reading this...you were probably looking for your name in the list, but Stay Tuned!


	7. Chapter 7: Needles

Jackie: After much anticipation, it's finally here...the next chapter!

RakitWhore: And it's not a delay announcement or fake chapter, either...it's real!

Draco-muse: If you're a veteran reader just tuning into this chapter, you might want to go back and reread the rest...a massive rewrite took place earlier this evening.

Takeru-muse: As you might be noticing by the change in coauthor names.

Jackie: I don't own Harry Potter...actually, I should say I don't own Ron Weasley or Draco Malfoy. I hardly ever write about Harry himself.

Draco-muse: So, enjoy this long-anticipated, rather-long-for-this-story, chapter!

* * *

Chapter 7: Needles

* * *

The roar of the crowds watching the Slytherin-Ravenclaw quidditch match could be heard all the way inside the school. Gasps and cheers resonated through the halls as the Slytherin seeker made fantastic dives and rolls in his pursuit of the Golden Snitch.

And in the entryway, sitting at the base of a large statue, Draco listened to the commotion and wished that it was him out on the field. Instead, he was waiting for Ron to show up to go with him to Royal Marsden. As another shout reached his ears, he sighed sadly. He would have much rather been up in the sky flying free than about to be put through hell and back in a hospital bed.

Down the hall, Ron was slowly making his way to the foyer to meet with Draco. He still felt as if he'd been stuck with Draco unfairly, but he felt less and less resentful of the situation each day. Today, he'd was going with Draco to distract him from the treatment, or so he was told. He carried his school satchel with him, containing a muggle chessboard, several books, and a present for Draco that he'd read about in one of the cancer books.

He looked down the hall and saw Draco sitting by the large statue in the entryway, staring off in the direction of the Quidditch pitch with a very depressed look in his eyes. _Oh yeah, the game.__ I'll bet he would rather be out there than where he's going._ About that time, Draco turned his head and gave a tilt of his chin that acknowledged Ron's presence, and Ron returned the gesture. As soon as he had reached the blonde, Draco stood and joined in step with him as they made their way to the Hospital Wing. Neither said anything as they traveled up the stairs and into the room...no words were necessary or appropriate for the time.

* * *

After stepping through the vortex once again, Draco noticed that, when the exam room was darkened and empty, it was a lot more frightening as dim light sparkled off steel instruments and cast menacing shadows on the walls. As quickly as possible, he hurried through the door on the other side of the room and into the brightly-lit main hospital. The smell of antiseptic and ammonia filled his nostrils, and he understood why people complained about the "hospital smell"...it wasn't necessarily a bad smell...just awkward and discomforting. Checking a directory on the wall, he and Ron made their way to the front desk to check in.

Once Draco's initial checkup and physical were done, Dr. Chantelle sent for the first round of drugs, and Ron and Draco were left waiting in the small waiting room. After a few more minutes of tense silence, Ron reached into his bag and pulled out the wrapped gift. "I...got you this. I read that it helps sometimes."

Draco tentatively took the package, a little surprised that Ron had gotten him anything. Opening the brown wrapping, he pulled out a green leather-bound journal. Opening it, he saw that it was empty, but the day's date was written on the top of the page. "It's charmed," Ron said quickly. "It automatically puts the right date on top of the page. I read in one of those books that keeping a journal makes this...you know...easier to deal with. I hope you like it." Looking up, Draco saw that Ron was avoiding his gaze, and was blushing ever so slightly, causing his freckles to stand out and making him look like a small child who just gave his mother a half-wilted dandelion. Smiling, Draco closed the journal and flipped it over, and saw that Ron had inscripted "Property of Draco Andreas Malfoy" on the bottom in beautiful gold calligraphy. "I love it...thanks, Ron. I didn't know you knew my middle name."

Ron laughed and looked at Draco. "I saw it written on your broom last year." Draco smirked. "How did you manage to remember it this long? It's not a common name."

It was Ron's turn to smirk. "Neither is Draco. But Andreas is a really cool name. Better than mine, at least." Draco smiled slightly and looked down at the journal, running his fingers along the inscription. "It's Greek for "strong". Guess mother got it wrong, huh?" Ron shook his head and once again put a hand on Draco's shoulder. "I think she got it exactly right. I would have been a total wreck if this had happened to me...you're holding up really well."

Draco lowered his eyes and looked away, embarrassed, then looked up and back at Ron. "Do my ears deceive me, or did a Weasley just pay me a compliment?" Ron raised an eyebrow, and then clapped Draco on the shoulder before removing his hand. "Quit while you're ahead, Malfoy."

Both laughed a little, until Draco noticed the chessboard sticking out of Ron's bag. "Chess? In a muggle hospital? Is that smart?" Ron reached down and pulled the board out of his bag. "Actually, this is a muggle chessboard. You have to move the pieces by hand, and they don't attack each other, you take the piece off the board when you make a capture. Harry gave this to me for Christmas last year." He handed Draco the white queen, and Draco examined it closely. "I never knew muggles played chess..."

Just then, Draco's name was called over the intercom. Exchanging nervous looks, the boys put up the board and journal and headed for the triage.

* * *

Once in the room, Dr. Chantelle made sure that Draco was comfortable, and provided a chair for Ron next to the bed. "The technician will be in soon to start the IV and set you up. Today you're getting two drips and an intramuscular injection." Draco looked at her, confused. "You mean, you're not doing it?" Dr. Chantelle smiled and shook her head. "No, but Alan is very good at what he does...better than me, that's for sure. I'll be close by if you need me for anything, though." With that, she placed his chart at the edge of the bed and left the room.

Draco fidgeted nervously, and shivered slightly beneath the hospital sheet and thin gown. At the word "injection", Ron had pulled out his Muggle Studies text and begun reading to try and steady his nerves. A few minutes later, a tall burly nurse entered the room with a rolling tray of various needles and IV bags. "Hey Draco, my name's Alan, I'll be your technician today. You ever had an IV before?"

Draco shook his head, but Alan's light attitude made him feel a little better. Alan smiled and pulled a green rubber strip from tray, and began to tie it around Draco's arm. "They ain't as bad as people make 'em out to be. You hardly feel it once it's in. At least, not when I do it. I'm the best there is, you know that?" Draco tried to hold back a snicker, and a goofy, child-like smile spread across his face. "Aw, there we go, you know it goes easier when you smile."

Ron had looked up from his book when the man started talking, curious. Alan noticed him, then gestured towards him and asked Draco, "That your brother?" Draco shook his head. "No, he goes to my school. It's a...boarding school, so I don't have any family nearby." Alan smiled as he tapped Draco's arm and wrist, looking for a good-sized vein. "Ain't no shame in that. I'm from the States myself, if you hadn't guessed. Most people here think I talk funny."

As Draco snickered, Alan inserted a small butterfly needle into a vein in his wrist. Draco watched it, intrigued. Even Ron leaned over slightly to see, amazed at how well the man was doing his job. "See, that wasn't bad, was it?" he asked as he attached the catheter and the bags of Vincristine and Daunorubicin, which he hung on an IV pole, setting the drip rate on the pump with large, dark fingers. After taping the line to Draco's arm, he then pulled out a syringe and a bottle of a cloudy white liquid. "You ain't done yet, though. Gotta stick you some more."

Pulling the sheet up, Draco's long thin legs were bared up to his hips due to the shortness of the gown, and Draco blushed at being this exposed in front of Ron. Ron blushed as well, and looked away politely, but kept sneaking peaks over his shoulder when Draco wasn't looking. "What's you favorite color, Draco? Red, blue, or green?" Alan asked, measuring out a portion of the Asparaginase in the needle.

"Uh...green..." Draco said nervously, unsure about the long needle that the tech was now wielding. "Green? Okay, then we'll get you a green bandage afterwards. I know, you think it's kinda babyish, but everyone feels better with a colored bandage. This is gonna sting a little, hold on." Draco looked into Ron's eyes as Alan pushed the needle into the muscle of his thigh, and Draco cringed and gripped the edge of the bed as the medicine flowed in with a burning sensation. Ron had turned a pale shade of green, but was determined not to show Draco that he was frightened or disturbed. _The calmer I am, the calmer he'll be._

"Now I'm done. I'll be back in about 10 minutes to make sure everything's going okay, but you call if something's not right, okay?" Alan winked and stuck a bright green bandage over the injection spot, and then he and his cart left the room. Draco rubbed his thigh tentatively, still feeling a dull ache in the muscle. "You okay?" Ron asked quietly.

Draco shrugged, and tried to hide his grimace. "Stings a bit, but I'll be okay. How about you?" Ron shook his head. "Oh no. There will be no worrying about me today, Mr. Malfoy." Reaching into his bag, he pulled the chessboard and pieces out. "Care for a game?" he asked. Draco nodded, and Ron laid the board across Draco's stomach and began setting up the pieces.

* * *

Two games, one chapter, and several minutes of nothing later, Draco sighed as he stared at the ceiling. "Chemo is a whole lot of nothing, you know that?" Ron, who had started to doze off, raised his head at the sound of Draco's voice. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he said, "It's almost over for today. How are you doing so far?"

Draco shrugged and frowned. "I'm bored out of my mind, and my stomach kind of hurts. Otherwise, I'm okay." Looking over at Ron, he saw a tinge of worry cross the redhead's face. "Really, Ron, I'm fine. Stop worrying." Ron shook his head, looking at the floor. "I can't help it. I've been worried since the day you fell. I couldn't figure out why those first few days, either. Now, I just live with it, you know?" Ron's voiced trailed off, and Draco continued to watch him as Ron became fascinated with tracing the lines in the tile with his shoe.

Draco began studying his hands. "Ron, I'm sorry I got you into all this. You shouldn't have to be dealing with this...it's my problem, not yours. I...I feel terrible that I'm putting you through this." Ron looked back at the blonde, and saw a single tear forming in the corner of his eye, which he quickly squeezed away. "Draco, I would rather be here with you bored out of my skull than be back at school knowing that you were here alone." Seeing Draco's hand lying next to him on the bed, Ron obeyed an impulse, and gently took it and squeezed. Draco looked at Ron's hand grasping his own for a few seconds, before squeezing back in reply. Both boys looked at each other and smiled, until Alan came back to stop the IV.

* * *

"Ugh...I feel like I could sleep for a year."

About 30 minutes after getting back to Hogwarts, Draco was really feeling the effects of the chemo. His stomach was cramping and nauseous, and every muscle in his body ached. His face was flushed with the start of a light fever, and his head pounded with the beginnings of a migraine. As he and Ron made their way through the halls towards the dungeons, Ron put his hands gently on Draco's shoulders, guiding him and keeping him upright and moving as he tried to get him to his room. "You can't sleep just yet, wait until we find a bed first," he said as Draco stumbled, causing the bottle of pills in his robe pocket to rattle...his medicine for the next day. Ron grasped his shoulders, leaned him back into an upright position, and continued down the halls.

When they got to the stairway, Ron went down first, leading Draco one step behind. Everything went well until they neared the bottom, when the staircase decided to change, sending both boys sprawling onto the dungeon floor. Draco braced himself for impact, but was surprised when he landed on something soft. He was even more surprised when he realized he had landed on Ron. Flustered, Draco blushed, and muttered an apology before trying to right himself.

Ron blushed as he felt the slight weight of the Slytherin prince on top of him. Helping push Draco into a sitting position, Ron rolled onto his side and climbed to his feet before offering a hand to help Draco up off the ground. He pulled him to his feet, and the two continued to the entrance to the Slytherin dormitories, both trying to pretend that what had just happened hadn't.

Once safe in his bed, Draco lay exhausted, but found that his mind was racing. His body was completely drained of energy, but thoughts bounced recklessly inside his mind. Rolling to the edge of the bed, Draco's hand found the journal Ron had given him, and he took it in his hands, looking at it for a few moments. Then, grabbing a quill and ink, he opened to the first page and began writing.

* * *

Jackie: I am soooooooooo freakin' exhausted...staying up until 3:30 for three nights in a row fixing this story is killing me.

RakitWhore: Well, unless you're going to write another entire chapter tomorrow night, you can rest then.

Draco-muse: Jackie would like to note that the character Alan is based on a real technician at a San Antonio hospital that she wanted to pay homage to.

Jackie: My first IV experience was very similar to this. The man is a genius at getting needle phobics to relax. Go Alan!

Takeru-muse: Is everybody happy now? If so, Stay Tuned!


	8. Chapter 8: Side Effects

Jackie: Let there be slash!

RakitWhore: Good lord, no.

Draco-muse: ((pales)) Why? Why did you guys want this?

Jackie: This chapter has, as Kitai's muse said, "great whacking jabs at [slash]." I'm not sure if I like them. But, hey, I'm no JK Rowling.

Takeru-muse: Nice segue.

RakitWhore: Not.

Draco-muse: This chapter also has some more side effects materializing...and another big medicine name.

Jackie: So, enjoy!

Takeru-muse: P.S. - GO JOIN THE YAHOO GROUP FOR THIS STORY!

* * *

Chapter 8: Side Effects

* * *

Draco stirred sleepily and blinked his eyes as they adjusted to the early morning light. Glancing at the clock next to the bed, he saw that it was time for him to wake up, but he really didn't feel like it. His stomach had been upset all night, and he had slept fitfully. He felt like just rolling over and falling back asleep, but as he tried to do so, he heard a distinct rattle. He realized that he had never gotten undressed the night before, and his bottle of Prednisone was still in his robes. Groaning, he realized that he needed to go up to breakfast so he could take the pills.

As he put weight on his legs, they began to throb painfully, but he ignored it and continued to stand. Looking around, he saw that everyone else had already left for whatever they did on Sundays. Stretching, he noticed that the bandage that had been over the IV wound had fallen off, and a large ugly bruise covered his entire wrist. Scowling, he dug into his closet and found a long-sleeved sweater to cover it up. Thanking the powers that be for making it late fall, he finished getting dressed, ran a comb through his hair, retrieved the bottle of pills from his robes, and headed out the door.

"Did you know Malfoy's not the Slytherin seeker anymore?"

"He would if he had been around yesterday."

Ron was trying to enjoy breakfast, but it seemed that all Harry and Hermione wanted to talk about was yesterday's game and Ron's "mysterious disappearance". "Give it a rest, guys, please," Ron pleaded as he reached for his glass. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't finished yet. "I mean, we all get there, and there's some fourth-year playing Seeker. Nobody knew that Draco quit or got kicked off or whatever happened. This new kid, though, he's pretty good. We're going to have to change our strategy for Slytherin; he plays in a completely different way..."

"Speaking of which," Ron interjected, "I need to tell you something. I...don't think I'm going to be able to play this year anymore." Harry's mouth dropped open in shock, and Hermione dropped her fork, which clattered loudly on her plate. "What? Ron, why not? You're a great keeper, you haven't missed any practices, and as far as I know, you're passing your classes..."

"Look, I've got some personal things I need to sort out. I just need some time to settle stuff." Ron had stopped eating, and was staring down at his hands while he tried to fabricate a true-yet-vague reason. He expected Harry to lose it, but surprisingly, it was Hermione that exploded.

"Ron, what on earth is going on with you? You've been saying that you're fine, and now this? You're never around, you sneak in after hours, you won't tell us anything...are you even our friend anymore?" Hermione emphasized the last sentence, and Ron just continued to look away, embarrassed. Half the Great Hall was now staring at them. Quietly, Ron gathered his things and stood up from the table. He left the Great Hall without answering her question.

* * *

Draco stared at the food on his plate. He knew he had to eat something, but nothing looked appetizing. He finally settled on some dry toast and a glass of orange juice, but even that turned his stomach a bit as he slowly consumed it. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he took the bottle of Prednisone out of his pocket, and opened it carefully under the table, keeping it wrapped in his robes so as not to rattle it too much. Pouring five of the yellow pills into his hand, he nonchalantly poured himself another glass of orange juice. Then, pretending to yawn, he popped the metallic-tasting pills in his mouth, and then quickly drank the juice to get rid of the flavour.

After another glass of juice to attempt to completely mask the taste, he stood up from the table and was headed back to his dorm to sleep some more. As he neared the door, however, he heard Granger's voice break through the dyne of the Hall.

"Are you even our friend anymore?"

Turning, he saw that she was yelling at Ron, and that he looked like he'd just been shot. Draco could guess what caused the argument...him. Feeling guilty, he pushed through the doors and waited. A few moments later, Ron burst through the doors, looking angry and upset. He continued to walk for a few feet, then just stopped, and looked like he was trying to calm himself down. "Care to talk about it?" Draco asked quietly.

Ron turned, startled to see Draco there. "It's...'Mione never understands. She's always thinking that Harry and I are trying to abandon her." Ron started to say something else, then fell silent and just pulled at his hair, agitated. Draco started to walk past him to the grounds, and gestured for Ron to walk with him with a nod of his head. Ron fell into step, and once they'd walked in silence for a few minutes, Draco asked, "What made her go off like that?"

Ron shook his head. "I quit the team. I figured Harry would..."

"You quit the team? Why?" Draco was shocked. He knew how much Ron liked being on the Gryffindor team, and as much as he'd teased him the previous year, he was now a really good player. "Just because I had to quit doesn't mean you have to give it up, too." Ron shook his head, and grasped his arm self-consciously. "It just...doesn't seem that important anymore. I mean, I spent all those years wanting to get on the team, and when I did, it turns out I stank. Yeah, I made one good save at the end of the year. Big deal. I guess this whole thing has made me look at what is really important to me."

"And what would..." Draco began to ask, but suddenly turned a pale shade of green. "Excuse me..." he said meekly before quickly disappearing behind some bushes. Ron dashed after him, and calmly rubbed Draco's back soothingly as the smaller boy suffered the effects of the pills. Once the wave had passed, Draco sat back, his whole body trembling and clammy. Ron kneeled down beside him and gently swept a loose strand of hair off Draco's forehead. "Thanks," Draco whispered, his voice wavering, "these drugs are hell. I've been doing that all night."

Carefully climbing to his feet, supported around the arms by Ron, Draco grinned and found himself face to face with the tall redhead. "As I was saying," he asked quietly, "What would be important to you?" Ron hesitated to release his grip, blushing slightly as he looked down at Draco. Clearing his throat, he reluctantly put a moderate amount of space between them, and looked down at the ground as they started walking. "For one thing, knowing that you aren't alone when you go into the hospital. I mean, I imagine it's bad enough even with me there. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want to go through that alone."

Draco grinned and chuckled softly, his stomach finally settling down for the moment. "Far be it for me to agree with a Weasley, but you're right. I wouldn't want to be stuck in a bed in a strange place alone while you flew around on your broom all afternoon." Laughing, Ron gave Draco a slight shove...just enough to make him miss a step or two. Draco tried to shove back, but lost his balance as he tried to tip the larger, heavier boy. Just before he went sprawling, Ron caught him under the arms and righted him once again.

For the third time less than 24 hours, the two found themselves looking into each other's eyes when neither one was being stuck with a needle. "We've got to stop meeting like this," Ron whispered, but didn't let go. "I don't know, I kind of like this," Draco said, smirking. Ron shut his eyes and laughed silently, but then his expression softened. Leaning closer, he tentatively placed a quick kiss on Draco's forehead. The blonde blushed, and wrapped his arms tightly around Ron. Neither had given much thought to the relationship they were forming...they had just let it happen.

As they stood there, Ron felt the first few raindrops hit his bare arms, and gestured his head towards the school. "It's starting to rain. You shouldn't be out in this weather anyway." Reluctantly, Draco nodded, and the two made their way back to the school just as the sky opened up and rain drenched the grounds.

* * *

Draco-muse: ...eeew. Ron kissed me. I think I really am going to throw up.

Jackie: ((pointing at audience)) Blame them! Not me!

RakitWhore: Don't look at me, either. I'm a 100% heterosexual male and have no interest in male-male relationships.

Jackie: Oh, and Takeru-muse mentioned a Yahoo group above...I formed it for several reasons. A) I like managing Yahoo groups. B) I want fans to be able to give me more feedback and be more involved than a "Submit Review" button allows. C) I'm hoping to get a beta or two. (P.S.- Yay for Kitai, my first awesome beta!) D) Promo stuffmisms that I have fun making! E) Finally, there's extra stuff by the authoress on this site, like art, dollz, and even extra written works!

Draco-muse: So go join! She has a cool banner and everything!

RakitWhore: You get to see everything before it's posted here!

Jackie: So go join! And whether or not you join (please do), Stay Tuned!

Takeru-muse: Go to Jackie's profile for the URL, because FF.N's being a bitch...again...good lord I hate this editor...  
  
Kitai: ((Jumps into fic and waves)) Slashiness rules! ((Runs out again))


	9. Chapter 9: Hair

Jackie: Wow...this chapter was surprisingly easy to write.

RakitWhore: Who're the little sprites in here?

((There's a sprite bouncing off the walls, and one sitting in the corner sulking.))

Draco-muse: I think those are Kitai's muses. She read her email, and things...exploded from there...

Takeru-muse: Shoo! Go away! We've got enough muses for one mind!

((Both muses stick out their tongues and disappear in a cloud of smoke.))

Jackie: Actually, they helped a lot. So much, that this chapter is dedicated to Kitai Shinsei. She's my beta buddy as well as the inspiration for much of this chapter.

RakitWhore: So, enjoy! Especially you, chica. ;)

Jackie: Quit flirting with the beta!

* * *

Chapter 9: Hair

* * *

The days seemed to drag on as the therapy continued, each day being worse instead of better. Draco knew that he was getting to the point where he would no longer be able to attend classes, but he was determined to stay as long as his body allowed.

It was a Saturday, however, so Draco was found not in the classroom, but facedown on his bed. His dorm mates were starting to wonder what was wrong, but not enough to actually ask him about it; they knew better than that. Therefore, when Draco opened his bleary eyes, he found himself alone once again.

Sighing, he knew that, as appealing as it was, lying in bed all day wasn't going to make him feel any better, and slowly rolled over and propped himself up on sore elbows. As he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror across the room, he choked back a pained sob. His face was red and swollen, but his eyes were drawn and sunken. He could see the myriad of bruises that mottled his pale arms. They were especially prominent around his new portacath, which had been put in about a week ago, and which was clearly visible jutting out underneath the skin of his thin arms. He looked nothing like the proud young man he'd been just a month ago.

"How can they not see this?" he asked aloud. "Are they blind? Do they just not care? WHY CAN"T THEY SEE ME?" He buried his face in the pillow and pounded his fists into the mattress, tears burning like fire as they trickled down his swollen cheeks.

His rant was cut short as a familiar wave of nausea flooded over him, and he sat bolt upright. Scrambling to his feet, he dashed for the boy's lavatory, barely making it as his stomach heaved painfully. Trembling, he leaned back against the cool tile floor until his stomach eased and his head stopped swimming, his chest contracting painfully with each breath.

Once he felt relatively normal again, he climbed to his feet and trudged over to the sink. He winced as he rinsed his mouth out, the cool water hitting the sores that were beginning to form in his mouth. Dejectedly, he picked up his comb from its place on the basin and ran it through his hair robotically.

However, on the second time through, he felt a strange tugging. Nervously, he brought the comb down to eye level, and then promptly dropped it, covering his mouth with both hands. The white plastic clattered loudly on the green tile.

In it was a large clump of white-blonde hair.

* * *

About that same time, Goyle entered the dorm room looking for a place to put the package that had arrived from Draco's parents. Nobody had seen him at breakfast, and the large dark owl had left it with him. Placing it on Draco's bed, there was a rare occurrence...Goyle had an idea.

He knew that most of Draco's packages contained sweets and other good things, but Draco didn't know about this one. Looking guiltily around, he slowly began to pry open the box.

An ear-splitting scream from the lavatory convinced him otherwise, and he dashed from the room, leaving the package unopened.

* * *

Draco didn't stop screaming for several minutes until he ran out of breath. All of his pent-up frustration seemed to be pouring out of him in the loud, piercing sound. When he did stop, exhausted and gasping for breath, tears were pouring down his face like rivers of fire, and his throat burned from the exertion. He collapsed on the floor, and simply stared at the offending plastic and hair as his thoughts began to clear.

Picking up the comb, he began to pull it roughly through the rest of his hair, watching as piece after piece of his once-treasured locks rained all around him. _I'm crazy, _he thought, _I've completely lost my mind._ As the pile of hair grew around him, a giggle escaped his lips, growing into full-blown laughter as his hands fell and the last few strands landed silently around him. He couldn't stop himself, and his mind panicked. _I don't want to be crazy! I want to be normal again! __Normal__! I want everything to be back the way it was! I want my biggest fear to be failing a test! I want to look forward to Quidditch on the weekends! I want the only things that make me sick to be Potter, Mudblood, and...and..._

Draco found that during his thoughts, the laughter had turned into heart wrenching, dry sobbing. Weasley had turned out to be the best friend, or more, that Draco had ever known, just as he'd begun falling apart. Standing slowly, muscles protesting every inch, he looked into the mirror, horrified. A great deal of his hair was missing, and what was left hung limply in random patches around his head and neck. His eyes were sore and bloodshot from crying, and his lips were cracked and bleeding slightly from his screaming.

"Why would he want me now?" he whispered, bringing his hand to his face automatically. Looking around him, he slowly began to clean up the mess as his mind and emotions mercifully began to shut down.

* * *

Trudging back into the room, Draco looked around to see if anyone had come in. His head was wrapped in a towel just in case anyone had wandered in, but the room was still empty. Seeing the package on his bed, he sat down and started to open it, noticing that the corner was slightly torn. Shrugging, he ripped the rest open and examined the contents.

In it were an extra winter coat and hat, some sweets, and a letter. Checking around him, he removed the towel and shoved the hat on his head. Next, he unwrapped a piece of candy and popped it in his mouth as he gingerly tore open the letter.

_Draco__,_

_ I have been informed of your unfortunate illness. Dumbledore and your doctors assure me that it is in no way your fault. I sincerely hope this blows over quickly, as the Dark Lord does not like any weakness in his followers. It is almost your time to take your place alongside me in his fight._

_ Your mother and I will be ready to provide anything you need. Lord Voldemort wishes you a speedy recovery._

_ -Lucius_

Draco crumpled the letter as soon as he had finished reading it. "As if I'm not under enough stress, that bastard brings him up." Throwing the wad of paper back into the box, he put his head in his hands and sighed. "Who is he kidding? I'm no use to him now. He's only doing what will look good to others."

Looking up, he found himself staring into the mirror again, a defeated look in his eyes. But what he also saw was the calendar, with the date circled and the word "Hogsmeade" written in green marker. Smiling a little, he began dressing for a cold winter day. After all, things couldn't possibly get worse.

* * *

"C'mon, let me see."

"No!"

Ron tried to snatch the hat off Draco's head, but Draco was surprisingly fast in avoiding him. "It can't be all that bad," Ron whined, pouting his lip. Draco raised an eyebrow, and then lowered his voice. "How would you know, Weasley? You've never been...you know..." then ducked as Ron reached for the hat once again.

Ron had been wandering around alone in Hogsmeade until he spotted Draco sitting on a bench outside of a barbershop. Harry had Quidditch practice (which he begged Ron to attend, to no avail), and Hermione said that she had some studying to do. He hadn't been that upset, because his two friends had been angry with him ever since the day in the Great Hall.

_Besides, _he thought to himself, _Draco__ needs me more than they do right now. Not that I mind, of course..._

Ron had slung his cloak over Draco's shoulders, trying to protect the teen from the cold wind. It was also a good way to hold hands without anybody seeing, which both were thoroughly enjoying. "Well, I'll tell you this...you're going to look awfully silly going to class in that hat," Ron teased. "Let's go over to Gladrags...I've got a better idea for you."

Entering the warm shop, both boys were disappointed that they had to let go of each other as they shed their cloaks and left them at the front of the shop. Looking around the small store, Ron spotted what he wanted on a table in the back. Following him cautiously, Draco pulled his hat tighter on his head and looked at the pieces of cloth that Ron was now leafing through.

"What are these?" Draco asked, picking up a square red cloth with a white design. "Bandanas. Bill brought us some to wear in the summer. They cover your whole head, but they don't look quite as conspicuous as that sheep you're wearing now." To demonstrate, Ron quickly tied one with the British flag on it around his head, covering all of his hair and looking a bit foolish in that design, but looking really good at the same time. ..._Or that could just be me, _Draco thought as he smiled softly. Sifting through the pile, he found a green bandana with silver trim that didn't look too girly. Paying the cashier (who was popping gum and didn't seem too interested in anything), he and Ron left the shop with the bandana in hand.

"So, how do I tie this thing?" Draco asked, turning the square over and upside down. "Well," Ron said with a sideways glance, "I could show you how, but you'd have to take off the hat first." Sighing, Draco looked around before pulled Ron into the alley behind the store. "Promise you won't laugh?" he asked timidly, reaching up to remove the hat. Ron nodded, and then his eyes went wide as Draco's hat fell to the ground. The blonde...wasn't a blonde anymore. He'd had his remaining hair shaved off, leaving a creamy white head instead of silvery-blonde hair. Ron tried to keep himself from staring, but then suddenly remembered the bandana. Reaching around his head, he wrapped the cotton cloth around Draco's head, trying his hardest to ignore the heat radiating between them as he tied the knot on the back of Draco's head. "There," he whispered, and looked down at the shorter teen as he lowered his hands, resting them on Draco's shoulders.

"Thanks," Draco whispered back, leaning his head on Ron's chest, suddenly tired. Ron wrapped his arms tighter around Draco, and the two simply stood in the darkness of the alley for a while, sharing body heat in the cold winter air as Draco rested against Ron's broad chest. After a minute or so, Draco shook his head sadly and looked into Ron's eyes. "Why do you stay with me?"

Ron raised an eyebrow confused. "Why do you ask?"

Draco slid out from under Ron's arms, facing the back wall. "I've treated you so badly over the years. Now I look like absolute hell, I'm sick all the time, and I can't be that much fun to be around. It...it just doesn't make sense." He stared up at the wall, but soon felt a large, warm, gentle hand grasp his shoulder. "Draco, when you got sick, you also became one of the nicest people I've ever met. You stopped trying to degrade everyone around you, including me. You showed me the real you underneath the Slytherin exterior, and that you is funny and strong and sweet, and that's the person that I...I..."

Ron turned Draco to face him, and looked deeply into Draco's eyes. "...that I think I'm falling in love with."

Draco's eyes went wide, and he stepped closer. "Ron..." he started, but Ron put his finger against Draco's lips. Leaning down, he placed a tentative kiss on Draco's lips, then a more confident one. Draco melted into the kiss, wrapping his thin arms carefully around Ron's broad shoulders as he closed his eyes and kissed back, forgetting for one blissful moment that nothing was normal anymore.

* * *

Jackie: I'm worried.

RakitWhore: About what?

Jackie: I like this chapter.

Takeru-muse: What's wrong with that?

Draco-muse: When she hates a chapter, most people love it. When she loves it...no reviews in the mailbox.

Jackie: ...And no reviews makes me sad. I hope you guys like this chapter, and had as fun reading it as I had writing it.

Draco-muse: So stay tuned! ((mutters)) I'm bald...gah...

Jackie: P.S. - If you haven't already, GO JOIN THE YAHOO GROUP FOR THIS STORY! Link's on my profile!

Kitai: ((Runs into fic)) They're not sprites! ((notices her muses)) OK… they are in your mind. Never mind ((runs out again)).


	10. Chapter 10: Discoveries

Jackie: Well, that took long enough.

RakitWhore: Darn it, I thought you'd given up.

Elysia: Not with me, she hasn't!

Draco-muse and Takeru-muse: A GIRL MUSE?

Elysia: Yeppers. I'm here to take care of all things fluffy or slashy.

Takeru-muse: That's why there have been purple pantyhose in our bathroom.

Draco-muse: What, they weren't mine!

Elysia: Jackie doesn't own Harry Potter, whom she actually writes about in this chapter!

Jackie: So, enjoy!

Draco-muse: Wanna take a crack at a chapter, Miss Newbie?

Elysia: Don't mind if I do...watch and learn, amateurs!

* * *

Chapter 10: Discoveries

* * *

"Mr. Potter, please remove that ridiculous hat please."

Harry glared at Snape, the worn baseball cap over his messy black hair skewed slightly over one eye, then shot a glance at Draco sitting in the back of the room. "But sir, you let Malfoy wear whatever he wants. Why can't the rest of us?" Snape simply proceeded to snatch the hat off Harry's head, deposit it on his desk, and begin the lesson. Harry and Hermione snickered to each other, but stopped when they saw Ron glaring angrily at them.

"Come on, Ron, look at him. He looks ridiculous in that bandana," Harry said, giggling. Hermione smirked, and added, "He never goes anywhere without it. What, is he afraid someone will mess up his perfect hair?" The two fell into a fit of giggles, but Ron simply turned the other way and pretended to pay attention to the lesson. Inside, he was livid at his friend's immature behavior.

At the same time, though, he knew that he would be joking right along with them under different circumstances. Had Draco never gotten the nosebleed in Potions, had Ron not found him collapsed on the ground, had Madame Pomfrey never drug him along to Draco's appointment...a whole list of events that, in a few short months, had overturned everything Ron had ever believed ran through his head. _But would I change anything? _he asked himself.

Turning around, he saw Draco taking notes, his head resting in his unoccupied hand as if simply moving a quill across the page was exhausting to him. His bandana had slid very slightly behind one ear, but only Ron would know to notice the white skin of his scalp peering out of that small, exposed space.

Feeling someone's eyes on him, Draco glanced up, and was relieved to see that it was Ron and not somebody else. He smiled weakly before laying down his quill, fixing his bandana, and then resting his head on the cool tabletop.

Ron turned back around, a faint smile on his lips. _No,_ he answered himself. _I don't think I would._

* * *

"So, Ron, fancy a game of chess tonight?"

Ron grasped his arm, and focused on the stone wall as they walked. "Sorry, mate, I've got other things to do tonight." He hoped that Hermione wasn't glaring at him, per usual, but he knew she was. "How many nights does this 'extracurricular activity' happen? You haven't been around in the evenings since October." Hermione's voice was uncharacteristically venomous, and he knew she was still angry with him.

At that moment, the trio walked passed the Hospital Wing, where Ron needed to be shortly. "Look, why don't you show Mione how to play, Harry?" he offered, hoping he'd get the right reaction from them.

Hermione scoffed. "I don't want to play that barbaric game." Harry sighed and smacked his forehead. "Hermione, for the last time, the pieces aren't broken forever. They fix themselves at the end of the game, you've seen it happen!"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean it isn't barbaric! 'They fix themselves'...that's just like saying 'house elves are happy being slaves'."

"Oh, you aren't still on about those bloody house elves, are you?"

"All I'm saying is that if the others would stop obeying the stigma against them and look at how happy Dobby and Winky are..."

"Winky's a bloody lush!"

"Yes, but she CHOSE to be a lush!"

The two only stopped arguing because the heavy Hospital Wing doors slammed shut behind them, startling them. "Ron?" Hermione asked, looking around, and finding that he had disappeared, once again.

Inside the Hospital Wing, Ron bit back a laugh as he sat down to wait for Draco to arrive.

* * *

The halls were darkened by the time Ron made his way up to Gryffindor Tower, the torches along the walls flickering orange and casting an eerie glow at regular intervals along the path. He crept along, clutching a piece of paper in his hand, glancing around him constantly. Even though his excuse was right there in his hand, he still didn't want to be caught by prefects...Hermione especially.

Once he spied the Fat Lady, he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd made it all the way without being stopped once. "Endomyte," he whispered, and the Fat Lady glared at him, but swung open...

...to reveal Hermione and Harry staring at him. _Bloody hell._

"Ronald Weasley, unless you have a good excuse, I'll be forced to..." Hermione started, but Ron quickly shoved the note from Madame Pomfrey into her hand and continued past them, bumping into Harry so hard that the skinny boy nearly fell over. He was tired, and just wanted to get to bed.

Hermione read the note in the common room's dim light as Harry watched Ron trudge up the stairs. "Well, isn't he in a good mood tonight?" he asked as a glare crept onto his face. "What's the excuse?"

Hermione was just staring at the paper. "It's from Madame Pomfrey," she said simply, handing the note to Harry. He pushed his glasses back into place and scanned the note.

_To whom it may concern:_

_ This note is to allow __Ronald__Weasley__ to travel from the Hospital Wing to __Gryffindor__Tower__ without punishment. He has been with me all night._

_ -__Madame __Pomfrey___

Harry finished reading, and then looked up at Hermione, confused. "What does this mean?"

Hermione took the note back, and then crumpled it up in her hand. "I've been so stupid. I mean, it makes sense. He starts acting strangely, then quits the Quidditch team for no apparent reason, then starts this disappearing act. Today, we see him go into the Hospital Wing, and he's just now getting out. It's so obvious...Harry, Ron is sick!"

"Don't you think he would tell us if he was sick? I mean, Ron makes a fuss every time he gets a sniffle, you'd think we'd know if it was something worse," Harry said, recalling the mornings when Ron would wake up moaning and coughing as he were dying when he had nothing more than a cold. However..._he has been tossing and turning a lot...and waking up in the middle of the night...and talking in his sleep about more than tap dancing spiders..._

"What if it's something really bad? You don't always tell us when your scar hurts..."

"Because I...don't want to worry you..."

"Exactly," Hermione said, shoving the note into Harry's hand. "What if Ron doesn't want to tell us because he doesn't want us to worry about him? What if it's something that can't be cured with a flick of a wand or a potion?" The two just stood there for a moment, minds reeling with possible maladies their friend could be suffering.

"Tomorrow night," Harry said finally, "we follow him. With the cloak. And we find out once and for all what's going on."

* * *

The next day, the three went to classes as if nothing had happened. Ron was still distant and brief with them, but Harry and Hermione stopped badgering him, so he got a little better, and actually began acting like his old self again.

The day was uneventful, except for the conspicuous absence of Draco Malfoy, which was whispered about all through Transfiguration. Seamus suspected that he'd been called away to receive the Dark Mark, but other students had their own theories, including Parvati's which involved evil aliens controlling his mind through his bandana, which was why he wore it all the time, and that they had taken him aboard the mother ship. Harry and Hermione tended to side with Seamus, but Ron made an effort not to participate in the conversations. When questioned, he quickly reverted into his shell once again, pretending to take notes or becoming fascinated with a passage in the text.

As class ended, Harry and Hermione slipped out, leaving Ron finishing up at the desk. Hermione had noticed that Ron's notes were neater and more extensive than ever before, as if he suddenly started caring about his grades, but just dismissed it as another sign that something serious was going on. Once out of the classroom, they slipped into a closet and wrapped themselves in the Invisibility cloak. Returning to the classroom (and scaring a couple of third years who saw a closet door open and close by itself), they looked in the open door to see Ron talking to Professor McGonagall, who handed him a stack of papers as she spoke. They were too far away to hear clearly, but both looked serious as the brief conversation ended and Ron turned towards the door.

As quietly as they could, they followed Ron down the hallways to the Infirmary. They had to move quickly to get in the door after him, and it shut on the cloak, making them stop to free it as Ron turned the corner towards Madame Pomfrey's office. Once they were mobile again, they made it around the corner just in time to see Ron disappear through a swirling vortex of color.

They didn't have time to think about it...closing their eyes, they stepped in behind him just as the closet door shut.

Expecting the ride to be like Floo powder, Harry and Hermione were surprised to find that they immediately stepped onto solid ground. Looking behind them, they saw nothing but a plain wooden door where the portal had been. In their shock, they didn't notice that Ron had already left the small darkened room, leaving them lost and stranded in an unfamiliar place.

Taking off the cloak, Hermione wrinkled her nose. "This smells like a hospital," she said, and Harry too could detect the uneasily antiseptic smell. Making their way to the door, Harry carefully cracked it open, and Hermione and he looked around at the bustling hallway. Ron was nowhere to be found.

Leaving the room, Harry and Hermione wandered down the hall, looking around them nervously and growing more worried every second. "This place...looks familiar..." Hermione said quietly as they made their way passed scrub-clad nurses and exam rooms. "I've been here before, I know it." Peering into any open room they passed, they found no sign of Ron, but soon stumbled upon the main lobby.

Looking at the sign on the wall, Hermione froze and gasped. "What's wrong?" Harry asked nervously, trying to find what shocked her. "This...this is Royal Marsden. I have been here before." She leaned against the wall, her hand shaking. "This was where my grandfather died. He...he had cancer. This is the cancer hospital." Harry's eyes went wide. "You mean..."

Hermione looked up into Harry's eyes, her own filled with the horror of realization. "Ron has...cancer?"

* * *

Their new conclusion had Harry and Hermione searching the hallways with renewed passion, looking and listening for any sign of their friend. Finally, when they reached the last wing on the third floor, they heard a familiar voice talking about the earlier Transfiguration lesson.

"The spell must be applied when the seed is turned exactly 20 degrees away from the sun's position, or the transformation will be into..."

"That's Ron!" Harry said in a hushed voice. Clambering to the open door, they saw Ron reading from his notes to a frail shape in the hospital bed. Both breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that Ron was probably volunteering and wasn't deathly ill.

"Okay, why again would this be useful?"

The second voice stopped their mental celebration. While they didn't recognize the thin, hairless shape under the sheets, who was turned away from the doorway and hooked up to various lines of medication, they knew the crisp, icy voice that came from it. Even as tired as it sounded, it was recognizable.

"McGonagall said it was good for planting," Ron said, smiling.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Was Ron actually smiling at Malfoy?

"I don't know about you, Ron, but I don't plan on doing much planting any time soon," Draco added, looking back at Ron, and letting a weak smile creep across his face. Once again, Harry and Hermione raised eyebrows. Did Malfoy just call Ron...Ron?

"Personally," Ron said, smirking, "this is the only planting I feel inclined to do." As he spoke, he leaned over Draco, and 'planted' his lips firmly on Draco's, being careful not to press too hard, as to avoid irritating the sores in his mouth. Draco responded by running his non-IV'd hand up Ron's back and through his thick red hair.

They were interrupted, however, by two loud thumps coming from the hallway. Frustrated, Ron got up and shut the door, never noticing his two best friends lying unconscious on the floor next to it.

* * *

Jackie: Well, that was pretty good for her first chapter, wasn't it guys?

((Takeru-muse and Draco-muse stand with their mouths hanging open))

Elysia: It takes one woman to do the jobs of two men. Typical.

Takeru-muse: Well, you have to admit, this chapter is way different from ours!

Draco-muse: Yeah, ours are angsty and concise. Yours is...trying to be funny.

Takeru-muse: Trying being the key word.

((Elysia pulls out bolts of death lightening))

Takeru-muse and Draco-muse: IT WAS GREAT DON'T HURT ME!

RakitWhore: Well, stay tuned!

Kitai Shinsei: Way to go, Elysia! ((Bounces off to wait for the next chapter))


	11. Chapter 11: Options

Jackie: I know, I know, I'm a total slackbitch!

RakitWhore: No kidding, it's been almost two months!

Draco-muse: But, considering what we've been through these two months, it's not so bad.

Takeru-muse: Yeah, what with school starting, your birthday, the RPG, the website, the Underground, etc. and so forth...

Elysia: Plus the being sick this past week... ((looks at audience)) You're basically lucky to be getting an update at all.

Jackie: Yes, the four of us (excluding RakitWhore) have been in an RPG lately with two more authors from ff.n (Hi Lexi and MC!), and it's affecting the author's notes, as you can tell a bit. But none of us RP's as JK Rowling because, well, we aren't her! So don't sue me, I don't have any money anyway!

RakitWhore: Can't even get a word in edgewise...Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 11: Options

* * *

"...Potter, Zabini. Granger, Bullstrode. Weasley, Longbottom. I expect this to be on my desk by the end of class, so I suggest you all get to work."

Ron dejectedly sidled up beside Neville and began measuring out the ingredients for Snape's latest assignment, reading each one out of his crisp notes. He wanted to make sure that everything was correct, because it was no longer just his grade on the line. Glancing behind him, his face fell at the sight of an empty seat where Draco usually sat. Draco had been unable to attend class for a week, and showed no signs of improvement. Looking back at Neville, he quickly swiped the bottle of asphodel out of the smaller boy's hand before he could mess up the potion.

"Are you okay, Ron? You've been acting funny lately," Neville squeaked as the bottle was taken from him. In response, Ron glared at him and silently returned his attention to his notes. Grumbling to himself, he wondered why Snape would pair him with Neville, of all people, when it was imperative that everything go right.

"I'll...take that as a no," Neville tried again, reaching for another vial but then thinking better of it. "Want to talk about it?"

_ He's not acting alone,_ Ron thought, scowling. Looking across the classroom, he barely caught Harry and Hermione staring at him before they looked back at their project. His lip curling in a snarl his boyfriend would be proud of, he snapped his head back towards Neville. "No, I don't. And you can tell your "employers" that I'm tired of them pestering me!"

"Weasley, Longbottom, ten points from Gryffindor, and I'll make it twenty if you don't quiet down." Snape's voice was quiet and deadly, sending Ron into a silent trance and scaring poor Neville half to death. The rest of the class was spent in silence, and Ron managed to save the potion from Neville's numerous almost-disasters, a feat that even had Hermione startled. Just as Ron set the vial on Snape's desk, the classroom door opened noisily.

Professor McGonagall strode quickly over to Snape's desk. "Professor Snape, I need to take Mr. Weasley from you, as a matter of great importance." Nodding, the Potion Master shooed Ron out the door with his Head of House in the lead.

After class ended, Harry and Hermione met up with Neville outside the classroom. "Well?" Hermione asked him. Neville simply shrugged. "He wouldn't talk about it. But I think he knows you two put me up to it. He said to tell you that he's tired of you 'pestering' him." At this, Neville stepped back, because the look on Hermione's face was that of pure murder. As she turned to Harry, Neville took his opportunity and ran for dear life.

"Did you see him today? Those looks he was giving everyone? He's turning into Draco Bloody Malfoy! And since when does he do that well in Potions without us helping? Malfoy probably isn't even sick, he's just using it as a cover to brainwash Ron into some horrible...clone!"

Harry put his hands on Hermione's shoulders, trying to calm her down. "Hermione, listen to yourself. I'm angry with him too, and I have a sneaking suspicion that Malfoy is indeed behind this, but not in the way you're implying." Looking down the hall, he saw no sign of his ex-best friend anywhere. "Whenever he comes back tonight, we'll make him explain himself. The Ron I know wouldn't hide things like this from us if he knew we knew."

* * *

Ron made his way quickly through the antiseptic halls of the hospital, every step echoing off the tiles around him. McGonagall had simply told him that he needed to go to Draco right then, and had offered no explanation as she herded him towards the Infirmary. Madame Pomfrey hadn't been anywhere in sight, which worried Ron even further. Quickening his pace as he approached the elevator, his mind began reeling with worry.

_ What if something happened? What if the chemo went wrong somehow and he's lying there dying without me? Oh Merlin, what if I never see him again? I should have never left him, he was really sick yesterday and I should have fought with the nurses to let me stay, he's been getting worse every day and I left him, please let him be okay..._

After what seemed like an eternity to Ron, the elevator finally stopped on Draco's floor and he all but ran to his boyfriend's (_wow, that feels weird to say, _he thought) room. As reached for the door, though, he noticed something different. There were no beeps, no clicks, no shifting of bedclothes...no sounds whatsoever, emitting from the room. Once again, his mind began swimming with worry, and he frantically pulled the handle.

It wouldn't budge.

Ron pushed, pulled, wiggled, and shook the handle as hard as he could, and yet the door wouldn't budge. He stopped, frustrated, and ran a hand through his now shoulder-length hair. It was then that he noticed the shimmer. The door was shimmering. Breathing a sigh of relief and checking around him to make sure no one was watching, he pulled his wand out of his bag. "Alohomora," he whispered, and the handle moved slightly.

There was no sound from this movement, either, leading Ron to believe that not only was the door charmed shut, but that there was a silencing spell in play as well. Pulling the door open slightly, he wondered why there was so much precaution around Draco's room that day.

"What is _he_ doing here?"

Ron took a step backwards as a very perturbed voice assaulted him. His first thought was that it belonged to Draco, but then realized that his voice wasn't that deep, or that icy even on his worst day. Moving forward into the room, he saw Draco, still in the bed, and Dr. Chantelle, giving a very stern look to the figures on the other side of the room.

The figures that happened to be Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy.

"He's been staying with your son every day that he's been in treatment," Dr. Chantelle articulated, which seemed quite difficult to do through her clenched teeth, accent aside. Her body posture was stiff and straight, making the small woman seem infinitely larger. Looking at Ron, her expression softened somewhat, and she went to reapply the charms to the door as she motioned him inside.

Nodding, shocked, Ron took his place on the opposite end of the room from Lucius, at Draco's side near the door. Draco looked at him with pleading eyes, and Ron could see that he'd been crying earlier. His bandana was tied extremely tight on his head, as if he were afraid that it would blow away, and he was trying to conceal his bruised and pierced arm under the thin sheets. Giving Draco a fleeting comforting look, anger welled up inside him as he surveyed the elder Malfoys from a safe distance.

Narcissa was a wreck. Her once-perfect hair was falling out of place strand by strand, the wispy blonde locks obscuring her reddened eyes. There were two black streaks running down either cheek, further evidence that she, too, had been crying this morning. She still had the ever-present look of distaste on her face, looking down at the world over her long, upturned nose, which was crinkled as in disgust. She merely eyed Ron once over before sniffing pitifully and returning her attention to her husband.

Lucius seemed the opposite of his wife. Instead, he looked as if he had just refought the battle in the Department of Mysteries. Anger marred every feature of the elder Malfoy's body, and he glared at Dr. Chantelle, Ron, and even Draco in turn. His posture was just as stiff as Dr. Chantelle's, if not stiffer, and it was obvious that the two had been arguing for some time. The man's long hair was also disheveled, falling out of the usually well-kept ponytail down his back.

"Very well," said Dr. Chantelle, clearing her throat. "Mssrs. and Madame Malfoy, Mr. Weasley, we seem to have run into a problem. Draco's blood count isn't anywhere near where it should be after this course of treatment. As these two know," she gestured at the two boys, "we've already changed to a stronger course of drugs once already, with no change except for the advancement of side effects. At this point, we have one more option."

Hoping that the bed and sheets were enough to obscure his action from Draco's parents, Ron reached under the sheet and lightly squeezed Draco's hand in a reassuring manner. He knew how bad the side effects had gotten...Draco was now almost completely unable to eat, not only because of the nausea, but also due to the open sores that now lined his mouth, and had been getting intravenous nutrients for the past few days. That wasn't even half of what Draco had been dealing with, so the fact that it wasn't doing any good hurt both of them deeply.

Lucius looked furious. "What do you mean, only one option? This is a hospital, isn't it? Aren't you a mediwitch? There's bound to be something you haven't tried yet! Some potion, some procedure other than these...these Muggle torture devices!" At this, he gestured to the IV stand, and Ron could feel Draco slide his arm closer to his body, trying to keep the portacath out of his father's sight. "You're not doing anything to my son but harming him even more! Had he been taken to St. Mungo's at the start..."

"He'd have been transferred here anyway, because St. Mungo's isn't equipped to handle cancer cases like this," Dr. Chantelle interrupted. Lucius glared at this woman who had the audacity to cut him off, but clamped his mouth shut. "As I was saying before your...interjection...," she continued, "there IS a procedure. Like anything else, there are risks, but it's the only chance _your son_ has left." She emphasized the phrase "your son", as if trying to quell any further outbursts, before going on to explain.

"It's called a bone marrow transplant. The blasts are being formed in Draco's bone marrow, in most cases when the marrow is regrown from cancer-free donor marrow, it will start producing normal cells instead of the cancerous ones."

"You mean it could cure him?" Ron asked timidly.

"There's still a chance of relapse, but at least temporarily, yes, it could put him in remission," Dr. Chantelle explained, seemingly relieved that it had been Ron asking and not the Malfoys. However, her reprieve would be short-lived. "Well then," Lucius started again, "why haven't you done it yet? Why did you call us all in here to tell us about it instead of just doing it, why waste time like this?" Ron noticed, for the first time, that Lucius was slowly allowing a new emotion through his façade...fear, worry for his son. _Well, what do you know? Death Eaters have feelings, too._

Dr. Chantelle sighed. "Because there is a problem with Draco, as with many patients. His tissue type is rare...rarer still because he needs a donation from another witch or wizard. We usually like to use a family member as the donor, but neither you nor your wife even has the same blood type, let alone tissue type. AB Negative is rare enough in the world, let alone the wizarding world..."

At this, Ron, who had been focusing on Draco, looked up slowly. Why did that term sound so familiar?

_ "Now, this, this is your blood, __Mr.__Weasley__. AB Negative, pure wizard blood..."_

"Dr. Chantelle, isn't that...my blood type?" Ron asked, trying to conceal the excitement in his voice. Draco's eyes went wide, and he looked hopefully from his doctor to his boyfriend. Dr. Chantelle thought a moment, and then slowly began nodding her head. "You're right, Mr. Weasley, I believe it was. Yes, I remember now, it is. If you could give another sample for tissue typing..."

"I WILL NOT HAVE THAT FILTH IN MY SON!"

All eyes were now on Lucius, who had taken several steps toward the bed. "Its bad enough that you've reduced my son to this...this invalid, but you will not degrade him by contaminating his blood with this muggle-loving filth!" Draco seemed to sink down into the bed, ashamed and embarrassed at his father's new opinion of Ron and himself. _If he only knew..._

Dr. Chantelle seemed to have had enough at this point. "Mr. Malfoy, I don't think you quite understand, there really are no options left besides this, and it could take too long to find another potential donor who meets your...social standards..."

"Then take that time! There aren't so few purebloods left in this world with a respect for their bloodlines that another one with his type or whatever doesn't exist!" Lucius had moved to be face to face with Dr. Chantelle at this point, so Ron removed his hand from Draco's just in case he decided to turn on them. The absence of Ron's touch seemed to dishearten Draco even further, and he sunk back further, his eyes glassy with tears, and face contorted in what was probably a combination of migraine and nausea from the stress. Ron looked helplessly at him, wishing there was something he could do to comfort him.

"Mr. Malfoy, time is something we just don't have, this form of the disease takes its course very rapidly, and things must be done as quickly as possible..." Dr. Chantelle spoke, clearly articulating and voice rising with every breath.

"What do you mean? If time was so important, you should have started this "grandsplant" earlier and not wasted time on these fake medicines! I do not approve of this boy even being around my son, let alone putting part of himself into him! For all we know, this could make Draco into a sniveling, weak, muggle-loving disgrace like he and his whole family..." Even as Lucius insulted Ron, he kept his eyes locked on the doctor, moving until he was standing over her looking down. She simply glared back, as if daring him to say more. Ron, on the other hand, had had quite enough of this. Stepping away from the bed, Ron donned yet another Malfoy-worthy sneer and raised himself up as much as he could.

"Listen, Malfoy, don't you understand? If I don't do this, Draco will die!"

Lucius's head snapped to stare at Ron, but his face was no longer angry. Instead, a look of pure shock had overtaken his features, and he simply stared open-mouthed. Ron, realizing what he'd said, fought the urge to clamp his hands over his mouth, and instead tightened his jaw and stared back. Across the room, Narcissa began sobbing audibly. Dr. Chantelle looked at Ron and nodded approvingly, tight lipped and relieved at the same time. Looking back over his shoulder, Ron saw Draco looking off straight ahead into space, mouth open slightly and looking as though he had just been shot. _I'm so sorry, _Ron thought, wanting nothing more than to run over, hug him, and make everything better.

"Come, Narcissa," Lucius said, voice cracking ever so slightly as he spoke. The two worried parents went into the hallway to discuss the situation, shortly followed by Dr. Chantelle. All three gave the two boys sympathetic looks before walking out and shutting the door.

As soon as the door was shut, Ron obeyed his feelings, and leaned over the bed to hug his love. Draco, wrapped his arms around Ron's strong shoulders, the pain of separation easing, and was surprised to find that Ron had started sobbing. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say...," he was chanting, muffled by Draco's hospital gown.

"Don't be sorry, it needed to be said," Draco said, squeezing his eyes shut as he hugged tighter, feeling tears stream down his cheeks. Pulling back, he cupped his thin, bruised hand on Ron's cheek. "You don't think I've been thinking that for weeks? I hear the techs talk about what's not working. I hear Dr. Chantelle ordering stronger and stronger doses every day. I see the way everyone looks at me. But it was you, my center of strength, who was actually brave enough to say it. And for that, I'm grateful."

Smiling weakly, Draco leaned his head onto Ron's chest as a wave of dizziness flooded over him. Ron wiped the tears from Draco's face and leaned him gently back onto the bed. "I'm really not that strong. I watch you go through this and I don't know that I could stand it myself. Seeing how bravely you deal with this makes me think that you should have been in Gryffindor."

Draco made a face at this. "No offense, but I think I'll stick with Slytherin, thank you very much. And I wouldn't be nearly this brave without you here with me. I mean, you stood up to my father...that in itself is extremely brave."

Overcome with emotion and at a loss for words, Ron simply leaned over again and kissed Draco, softly, and yet with a longing and need behind it. Draco pushed up against Ron's lips, overjoyed with the renewal of contact between them, and reached around to grasp Ron's shoulders, pulling him down towards the bed. Ron steadied himself against the mattress to keep himself from falling onto his lover, and used the other hand to support Draco's neck has he tentatively deepened the kiss, careful not to hurt his tender mouth.

As the door creaked open, both assumed innocent looking positions a decent distance away from each other, and were relieved to see not Lucius but Dr. Chantelle walk in first. She eyed the boys and smirked a bit, but otherwise gave no acknowledgement to their previous activities. The look was off her face in a moment as Lucius strode in behind her, lips pursed and with a defeated look in his eyes, followed by Narcissa, tears still streaming down her bony cheeks and her arms crossed across her chest.

Clearing his throat, Lucius looked at Ron. "I consent to your being considered as a donor. For all of us, I hope...I hope that you are a match." Walking over to the bed, Lucius placed his hand on Draco's small shoulder in a very paternal gesture, and the two looked at each other, silently communicating volumes in their father-son gaze. All at once, Ron suddenly saw Lucius in a whole new light...he wasn't just acting as a pureblooded aristocrat, but as a worried father. He wondered if his own father would have acted any differently if faced with the same situation.

As the Malfoys left the room, Dr. Chantelle turned her attention to Ron. "Well, we should get you down to the lab for those samples before it closes." Walking towards the door, she stopped outside, then smiled, and turned her back to them. Ron took the hint, and used the opportunity to place a gentle kiss on Draco's forehead before following her down to the lab and giving Draco a chance to rest.

* * *

Jackie: Bwahaha! And you don't get to see anymore until the next chapter!

Draco-muse: But you should at least be happy with this monster for now.

Takeru-muse: Yes, especially considering what we've been through as muses.

Elysia: This chapter was far from easy to write, you know.

RakitWhore: Are you even going to give me a chance to talk?

All: Nope.

RakitWhore: Damn RPG...

Jackie: Sorry this chapter was a bit, intense, but Draco (angst) was fighting against Elysia (fluff and slash) for the dominant scene, which made for, well, this mess! Hope it wasn't too much.

Takeru-muse: Stay tuned!

Kitai: ((Bounces in)) You know… Jackie's writing so well these days, I'll soon be out of a job. TT ((Shepherd's crook comes out of nowhere and yanks her out of the fic.))


	12. Chapter 12: Emotions

Jackie: Erm...don't own it. Don't feel like talking much, either. Let's just get to the story. Enjoy!

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Chapter 12: Emotions

* * *

Draco knew it wasn't funny. He was lying in the hospital, weaker than ever, knowing that his only hope for survival was the redheaded klutz who had, until recently, hated him more than anything in the world, and the fact that said redhead was now his boyfriend made the situation no less extreme. And yet, there he was, a green-and-silver bandana covering his bald head, connected to lines of medication that flowed directly into a surgically-implanted tube…having hysterics. 

"Damnit, Malfoy, it's not that bloody funny!"

Draco's eyes were tearing as he continued to laugh at Ron, who was rubbing his bandaged forehead gingerly. "I'm telling you, that needle was huge…it would have made Hagrid jump! And she just kept putting more tubes on the end of it…I'm lucky I have any blood left at all!" Ron said, scowling and wincing slightly as the motion of his arm caused the fresh bruise at the crook of his arm to throb slightly.

"S-sorry," Draco choked out before dissolving into laugher again. "You just look like a five-year-old pouting after a spanking," he said, snickering. Ron shot a half-hearted glare at his boyfriend before allowing a small grin to creep onto his face. While he wasn't thrilled that Draco was, as always, was finding amusement at his expense, it was good to see him happy for a change. Leaning forward, he gently cupped Draco's cheek with his hand. "I don't know why I'm complaining, it's so good to see you smile," he said softly.

Draco leaned his face against Ron's hand and closed his eyes, thoroughly enjoying the soft touch against his skin. Ron's large, strong hand felt cool against his flushed face, and he let out a soft sigh. "I hope they get back with the results soon, this waiting is killing me!" he said, exasperated. Ron simply nodded, and move his hand up to Draco's forehead. "When are you due for your next painkiller, Drake? You're starting to run a fever again," he said, his brow furrowing with worry.

"Thirty more minutes, but I think we can squeeze in a mild antipyretic if it's getting bad," a familiar voice called from the door. The boys jumped, then relaxed as Dr. Chantelle entered the room, grinning. "I think you've done enough waiting this afternoon." Pausing, she grinned. "Oh, and don't worry, Mr. Weasley. You're certainly not the first person to pass out after a blood draw." Smirking despite her attempt at professionalism, she added, "Besides, that dent gives the cabinet character." At this, Ron rolled his eyes again and shook his head as Draco clapped his hands over his mouth to hold in his laughter, his shoulders shaking. "Well, did anything good come of all this?" Ron asked, fighting the urge to giggle himself.  
Flipping open the chart and the test results, Dr. Chantelle smiled softly. "How does 'almost perfect match' sound?"  
Draco, momentarily forgetting their audience, reached out and took Ron's hand. Ron's mouth fell open at the news, and he grinned like an idiot, squeezing his boyfriend's hand gently and shaking. "So that means…"  
"We'll start preparations immediately, unless you'd rather wait some more."  
Both boys shook their heads, and the doctor nodded. "Very well, I'll be back in an hour or so with your full treatment plan." She gathered the papers and started to walk out the door, then paused and lightly kicked the doorstop, and the door shut gently behind her as she exited.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Ron pounced. Draco hardly had time to brace himself before soft lips descended on his own, pressing and searching, comforting and celebratory. Draco let out a soft moan and reached up to run his fingers through Ron's hair, and sighed as Ron left his mouth and began placing soft kisses along his cheeks and down his neck. Each kiss left a trail of fire, and Draco decided that he'd never been happier. "I love you…so much…" he whispered quietly.

Ron stopped his ministrations when he heard the quiet proclamation from his lover. Looking deeply into his eyes, he softly stroked Draco's cheek. "And I you. You _will_ beat this."

Draco shook his head. "No," he smiled. "_We_ will beat this."

* * *

_Dear Ron,_

_Of course we don't mind! Your father and I think it's wonderful that you're helping out a friend in need. Still, if you could manage to make it home for a day or two, it would be lovely, but if not, we understand. I'll send your gifts over just in case, but no opening them until Christmas! Take care of yourself, and keep us posted._

_Love,_

_Mum_

Ron reread his mother's reply and breathed a sigh of relief. He'd sent her a very pleading letter asking if he could stay at Royal Marsden with Draco during the winter holidays, even though he'd only be needed for a day. Ron just didn't feel right leaving his little ferret alone at Christmastime, especially with the transplant pending and his health on the line. _I love you, mum,_ he thought briefly as he folded the letter and made his way down from the owlery back to the Tower to pack his things. Today had been the last day of term, and the sooner he could pack up and get out from under Harry and Hermione's scrutinizing watch, the better for all involved.

It was dinnertime by the time he made it into the room, so he was blessed with privacy as he gathered his schoolbooks, robes, and various other personal items into his trunk. He tried to work quickly, but being a messy person has disadvantages when you're trying to pack in a hurry. He had to go searching for his potions textbook (on the windowsill next to Neville's bed), his chessboard (under Harry's bed), and several pairs of socks and underwear (one of which he found in Seamus's trunk…and he didn't want to think about why they ended up there…). He had finally secured his last sock and was about to close the trunk when he heard the sound of people returning from dinner. _Bloody hell, _he cursed, quickly snapping his trunk shut just as Neville, Seamus, and Harry entered the room, laughing and chatting.

"It was really quite windy on Saturday, so I…" Harry stopped mid-sentence as he noticed Ron, who was sitting on his trunk trying to act nonchalant (and failing miserably). He turned away, suddenly preoccupied with the view out the window, before he spoke. "Ron. Where've you been all day? You missed dinner." The words sounded dead, but Harry really couldn't muster up the energy to feign innocence much longer. Ron shrugged, looking out the window on the other side of the room in a similar fashion. "Harry. Around. Busy."

Neville and Seamus exchanged nervous glances. Neville set about making his bed, trying to make himself as invisible as possible. Seamus, on the other hand, had never been described as subtle and if you asked him the meaning of the word tact, he'd tell you it was what Snape was after a first year muggle-born decided to prank him. "Whassamatter, you two having a lover's quarrel?" he asked, grinning. "Why don't you just kiss and make up?"

Ron half-heartedly glared at Seamus, but Harry had had enough. "Oh no, he's only interested in snogging the enemy."

Ron's eyes (as well as Neville and Seamus's) flew open. "You saw?" As soon as the words slipped out, Ron clapped his hands over his mouth, and Neville and Seamus's dropped open. Harry spun around, his face red with anger. "Yes, I bloody well saw! Hermione too! We were WORRIED about you, and there you are happy as anything snogging DRACO BLOODY MALFOY!"

It was about this time that Neville fainted dead over from shock, and Seamus grabbed a seat on the edge of Ron's bed. This was gonna be good, and he wanted front row seats.

Ron sneered and turned towards Harry. "As if you have any say over who I choose to spend my time with."

"What I SHOULD have a say in, is how my best friend chooses to RUIN his life! Ron, come on, it's Malfoy! The same slimy, twitchy git who made our lives a living hell since we got here, or have you forgotten that as well?"

"Well, that's the thing, Harry, he's NOT the same, and if you'd been paying attention, you'd have noticed that! Haven't you noticed, for the past several months, he hasn't said one rude thing to you, or Hermione, or even me? Hell, he hasn't even used the "M" word since September! Does that seem like the same Draco to you?"

"I…" Harry trailed off, his mind at a loss for a comeback. It was true…Malfoy had barely spoken three words to him since the confrontation on the Quidditch pitch. However, it wasn't the angry silence between rivals, like they'd had in the past …it was almost as if Malfoy had simply not noticed him. He shook his head, and took a deep breath, calming himself. "Why didn't you just tell us, Ron?"

Ron stood, and slowly walked towards the window, eyes shut and arms crossed. "I made a promise. I kept it. And I'm not going to break it now. I don't know what all you know or saw, but that's as much as you can know until he chooses to tell people. I'm sorry."

Harry watched his best friend, and knew that Ron was telling the truth. He walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Can I ask one question?" he asked softly. Ron glanced at him, then back out the window. "I can't guarantee I'll answer," he said, "but sure."

"Do you love him?"

Ron looked up, staring at the grey winter sky outside the tower window. He drew a shaky breath, and watched a lone snowflake drift down and settle on the windowsill for a few moments before melting away. "If I say yes, will you hate me?"

Harry half-smiled, and patted Ron's shoulder before turning to walk away. "No. Just…be careful, okay?"

Ron stood there for a few moments, before turning to catch Harry before he left. "Harry, I…thanks."

Harry stopped in the doorway, and grinned, fixing his glasses. "Just know this…the first time I hear the word Ferret used as a term of endearment, I will throw up on you." Winking, he shut the door behind him.

Ron laughed, thankful that he and Harry had escaped with their friendship in tact. Picking up his trunk, he followed Harry out the door, and made his way back to the Hospital wing.

Seamus on the other hand, who'd been watching the whole exchange eagerly, was now sputtering indignantly. "That's it? No punches, no curses, no spells, no cursing? What the bloody hell was that all about?" Rolling his eyes in exasperation, he grabbed his books and headed for the common room. "People just don't know how to fight anymore."

And poor Neville just lay there, unconscious, for a good 15 minutes before Dean came up and started poking him with his wand.

* * *

I know, I know, this chapter took FOREVER! But I've been busy! I've been through three jobs (one of which was in a hospital OR ordering supplies…cool stuff!) I started, and am 4 days away from finishing, MA school, which means that starting the 21st of June, I will be working in the medical field for real! I learned how to do all this neat stuff I've been torturing poor Draco with. I have a once-a-month job as an actress in a Rocky Horror Picture Show shadowcast (as Magenta), and scored myself a hot man in the process (I LOVE YOU RYAN!) He plays Eddie…yes, Magenta and Eddie, another unconventional pairing. XP I love it! And him…so, once again, I apologize for the incredible slowness of this chapter, but if it makes you feel any better, I got stuck with a needle tonight, too, and have a big ugly bruise on my arm from it just like Draco does. (We practice on each other in school.) Thank all you people who stuck by me and reviewed even in my absence! I love you guys! 


	13. Chapter 13: Happy Christmas

Jackie: Is it can be updates tiem nao plz?  
Draco-muse: Oh no, she's speaking in lolspeak, this cannot be good.  
RakitWhore: People barely remember this story exists, care to explain the absence?  
Jackie: Oh, let's see...work, grandmother dieing, starting, dropping out, and restarting nursing school, meeting, dating, and marrying my husband, learning to love cats...and a million other poor excuses for not writing the next chapter.  
Draco-muse: *ahem* Jackie obviously does not own Harry Potter, as the Dumbledore slash would have been a much bigger plot point.  
Jackie: *smacks Draco* Shut up! Anyway...enjoy!

* * *

A light snow was falling gently outside the window of Draco's room. Draco tracked the motion of the snowflakes with his blurry eyes, the silver-white spots reflecting off eyes with barely more color. Every now and then, a blink signified that he was, indeed, awake, but there wasn't much more movement than that. It was almost Christmas, and Draco's chemotherapy had been increased in order to destroy the offending bone marrow before his transplant. His face was profoundly swollen, and he could barely eat for the sores in his mouth. A few days prior he had been put on complete parenteral nutrition, which meant he was receiving calories and nutrients through his IV.

Draco blinked slowly again as he watched another flake travel down the window and land on the sill briefly before melting. He started to turn his head to the side, but stopped as the slight movement made his head swim horribly. He swallowed a few times painfully and breathed as deeply as he could without pain. His whole body itched horribly, but he had been scolded for scratching, and didn't have the energy to disobey anymore.

Ron sensed Draco's discomfort and reached out to offer a comforting rub to his shoulder. Today was a bad day; there had been more and more of those lately. It worried Ron. Draco's transplant was scheduled for tomorrow. _What fool_, Ron thought, _schedules something like that for Christmas bloody Day?_ But looking again into Draco's swollen face, with dark rings around his eyes and a sunken, glazed look, he knew that it couldn't be put off any longer.

"..r...Ron?"

"Yes love?" Ron responded, reaching down and taking Draco's hand. Draco weakly squeezed his fingers, then whispered, "Water, please?" Ron took the hospital-issued cup and held the straw to Draco's cracked lips, and Draco sipped slowly, holding the cool water in his mouth for a few seconds before reluctantly swallowing it. When he was done, Ron replaced it on the bedside table, and took the tube of petroleum jelly and gently smeared some on Draco's sore lips.

The transplant ward was a different world from the floor where Draco had received his chemotherapy. Since Lucius and Narcissa could not be away long enough to see Draco through the surgery, and since Ron was going to be his donor anyway, the hospital had consented to let Ron stay with Draco at all times. Until yesterday, Ron had slept on a cot next to Draco's bed, but today a second hospital bed had been moved in for him, since he would be donating tomorrow.

The thought made Ron's stomach flip. Dr. Chantelle had gone over and over again with him what would happen: he would be put to sleep, they would remove bone marrow from his hip like had happened to Draco on his first visit, but they would take more. Then he would wake up while Draco would receive the marrow through his IV. But the fear still gripped him unrelentingly. Shaking his head, Ron tried to take his mind off of things. _I'm doing this for Draco_, he thought to himself, _just keep reminding yourself of that. It's going to be worth it._ Stroking Draco's forehead slowly, and offering a silent prayer of thanks to Merlin that Draco didn't have a fever today, he distracted himself by focusing on his love. "Is there anything else you need, Drake? Are you cold? Hot? Do you want to try to eat something?"

A sad smile creeped across Draco's face. "Hug?"

Ron returned the smile. "Of course." Gently leaning over the bed, being careful to mind the IV lines, bruises, and delicate skin, Ron lightly squeezed Draco's small, swollen frame, holding him to his chest as gently as a mother holding an infant. Draco sighed happily and rubbed his hand on Ron's back. "Don't...don't be afraid, okay?"

Ron laughed. "Just like you to be more worried about me being scared than your own fool self, Malfoy." Ron pulled back, grinned, and winked. At that, Draco started to laugh, but quickly got dizzy from the effort and leaned back against the pillow, panting. "Well, one of us...has to worry about you...and you seem to...be preoccupied with wor...rying about me." The effort of getting the sentence out drains Draco, and he closes his eyes for a moment, licking his sore lips and grimacing at the feel of the disgusting medicine on them.

As the door to the room opened, both Draco and Ron parroted "Wash your hands!" just as Dr. Chantelle had instructed them to. Draco was, technically in protective isolation, since with the current state of his immune system, a sniffle could kill him. Normally, the nurse, technician, or doctor would just chuckle and say okay, but today a different, yet familiar, pair of voices responded...

"Oy, you're stealing our gimmick!"

Ron turned to the door to see his twin brothers, along with his entire family, standing in the hallway. Mr. Weasley was staring at everything, in seventh heaven surrounded by all the muggle devices, and trying to figure out how the sterile gown was supposed to go on. Mrs. Weasley was carrying a stack of presents, waving happily. Ginny looked nervous, but waved at the boys while peering at things apprehensively. Fred and George, twin looks of mischief on their faces, waved animatedly while taking in the sight, no doubt trying to come up with some prank or idea for a new product. Percy was trying to look dignified, but failing miserably among his family members, while Bill and Charlie managed it much better by just smiling and not fidgeting.

"Mum, Dad, everyone, wha...what are you doing here?" Ron got up to meet his family at the door (and shoo them out...he loved the twins to death, but he was not going to loose his boyfriend to any Skiving Snackbox residue on their clothes!). After he closed the door, Molly shrugged and gave the packages to a still-distracted Arther and gave her youngest son a hug. "Well dear, we couldn't very well leave you up here with no presents or family on Christmas! There's a friend of your dad's from the ministry who has a vacation home here in London, he offered to let us stay here for the holidays so we could see you. After all, tomorrow isn't going to be your usual Christmas, now is it?" She held his head in her hands, smiling that fretting smile that all of her children could recognize in an instance.

"Besides," Ginny said, trying to break the tension, "you can't be trusted not to open your presents early, so we just brought them up." Taking the top ones from the pile her father was holding, she presented them to Ron with a smile that, unbeknownst to Ginny, very much mirrored their mothers. "The rest are for Ma...Draco." Ginny caught herself at the last second, having gleaned from the letter home and owl letters from Harry that Draco was not really the enemy anymore.

Ron took the packages from Ginny, noticing the tell-tale soft paper wrapping on the top one that meant a new sweater, and hugged her. "Thanks Gin. I feel better knowing that you guys are here. I've been over what's going to happen with the doctor, but it's still scary."

Fred and George patted Ron sharply on the back simultaneously, almost sending him sprawling face-first down the hallway. "Don't you worry, little brother, we'll keep you so distracted that you won't have time to be scared!" Fred said, and George continued, "We've got some new items for the shop we thought you'd like to have a look at...no germs in these, we promise!" (At this, Ron breathed a sigh of relief. He knew the twins weren't stupid, but it still made him feel better that they sort of understood.)

"Um...where did Dad go?" Percy said nervously. Looking around, the Weasleys realized that Arthur had vanished, packages and all. "Oh no..." Ron said, and noticed that Draco's door was slightly ajar. "Don't move!" he said, and rushed into the room, squirting the foamy hand cleaner in his hands as he went.

What he saw in the room almost made him laugh with relief. His father was at Draco's bedside, in a backwards sterile gown, three pairs of gloves, mask, face shield, boot covers on his ears, a hair cover over his hat, and a glove over his wand, examining the IV tubing with great interest. "Now, you say that they've got this IP stuff hooked up to your veins? Doesn't it hurt? How do they get it in there without magic? How does it stay?"

Draco was eyeing Mr. Weasley with a look that was part amusement, part confusion, and part sheer terror. His boyfriend's father was in defective PPE, examining the tubes that feed and medicated him and would most certainly HURT LIKE HELL if they came out, and chatting as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. Ron decided to come to the rescue. "Dad, that stuff is kind of delicate, could you not tug on it like that?" Mr. Weasley dropped the tubing that connected Draco to his TPN solution, and muttered a quick apology. "Am I contaminating things? Do I need to leave? I don't want to give him a social infection."

Ron shook his head and laughed. "It's _nosocomial_, and Dad, I think you're pretty well covered. But it's been a hard day and he's tired, so 20 questions may not be the best thing right now." Sitting next to the bed, Ron patted Draco on the hand. "I'm going to go visit with my parents for a little while, do you need anything before I leave? Do you need me to stay or send in a nurse?"

Draco shook his head. "You go. I'll be okay...but tell the nurse to...send in some ice cream or...something. I've got a little bit...of an appetite now." Smiling, Draco made a shooing motion with his hands and turned to the side, settling down for a nap and some peace and quiet for a few minutes.

* * *

Eating in the hospital cafeteria was an adventure for the Weasleys. Ron had gotten used to moving through the lines with the other visitors, staff, and patients, but none of the others had ever eaten in that fashion before. The cashier eyed them strangely as Arthur seemed to have put chocolate pudding on his salad, Fred and George had trays full of nothing but Jello, and Ginny had put creamer in her cereal. Ron rolled his eyes and paid for the meal, thankful that most of his family had figured out the quirks of cafeteria-style ordering after seeing his example.

One thing that made Ron feel better was the fact that, as odd as they were, no one seemed to pay them any mind. Even in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, a parade of redheads drew attention left and right, but on Christmas Eve in the hospital, the room was filled with large families of every shape, size, and color, all there to comfort family members during the holidays. Taking a bite of his baked fish, he even saw a man that looked like a healthy Draco in five years lean over and kiss a sickly looking brunette man on the cheek before feeding him a spoonful of pudding. That got him daydreaming about the day when Draco would be better, and his mind slipped to a happier place.

"Ron did you hear me? I asked, what exactly are they doing to you tomorrow?"

Startled from his reverie about park benches and umbrellas, Ron reoriented himself and looked at Charlie. "Oh, it's supposed to be really simple, they're, you see, they're going to give me some stuff in my blood to make me fall asleep for a while, and they're going to take the insides of my hip bone out and then put it in Draco's blood, where it will start growing in his bones and make him better."

Eight blank stares looked back at him.

"Err, right then, I guess it's not that simple?" Ron said sheepishly. "Dr. Chantelle has explained it to me so many times that I've run out of things to ask."

"Oh, don't worry, we'll give you some more," Bill said, and the family nodded in agreement before exploding with questions and chatter. It took all Ron had to get a few bites in between explaining how hypodermic needles worked and that yes, Mum, I will wake up just fine, it's not permanent sleep.

* * *

A few hours later, after his family had been sent off to the London house for the night, Ron tiptoed back into Draco's room, stopping only to wash and sanitize his hands before sitting down at the bedside. Draco had drifted off to sleep while he was gone, but an empty ice cream bowl and pudding cup told Ron that he had, at least, been able to get some food down.

Stirring, Draco opened his eyes as Ron cleaned off the bedside table and put Draco's presents on it. "Hey bright eyes. Those your presents?"

Ron grinned. "Nope. Yours. Mum and the rest couldn't leave you here with no presents, now, could they? Want to open some?"

Draco summoned his strength and sat up in bed. "Sure. Without all those chemo drugs today, I actually have some energy." Reaching for the top one, he hesitated momentarily. "Are any of these from the twins, by any chance?" Ron laughed. "One of them is, but they gave me the same thing and it's completely harmless, I promise. That one on top is from Mum, by the way."

Opening the soft package, Draco tore gingerly through the paper and felt something incredibly soft against his hand. Taking it, he saw that it was a knitted Weasley sweater, in a vivid emerald green, with a delicate script D in shining silver on the front. The sleeves were extra big, for ease of rolling up and fitting over tubing, and it buttoned on the side for easy removal. "Wow," Ron said, admiring it, "Mum outdid herself with that one. How do you like it?"

Draco responded by slipping the sweater over his head and fastening the buttons on the side. "Ahh, it's warm and feels nice. It doesn't itch, either. It's...cozy. Feels like home, only better." Snuggling down, Draco smiled softly, enjoying the feel of something other than the hospital gown or scratchy sheets against his sore skin. Ron stroked his arm through the sweater, drinking in the sight of a relaxed Draco, something he hadn't seen in days. "You know that this means they accept you, right?"

Draco nodded and closed his eyes. "I'm glad. That means that I never have to leave you." Glowing, Draco tried and failed to stifle a yawn.

Ron kissed his closed eyes and pulled the blanket up over him. "I'm glad too. I never plan on leaving you. Goodnight, love. Tomorrow's a big day."

Draco was snoring lightly by the time Ron changed into his own gown and slipped into the hospital bed. Even though he was going to sleep through most of tomorrow, a good night's rest was in order. Before long, both were dreaming happily of each other.

Draco woke up to the sound of hustle and bustle in his room. Opening his eyes, he saw a nurse hanging a bag of reddish-brown stuff on his IV pole, while another nurse cleaned and readied his portacath site for a new insertion. Looking over, he saw that the curtain was drawn around the spot where Ron had slept the night before, and there was a glass partition in between the beds. Instant worry took over. "What's going on? Where's Ron?"

The nurse who had hung the bag looked down at him and smiled through her mask. "You're friend's on the other side of the curtain He's still a little groggy, but he should be able to come see you in about half an hour. You slept all night and all day pretty much, it's almost 8pm. This is his bone marrow here," she said, pointing at the freshly hung bag.

"And let the transplant begin," said the other nurse, starting the flow from the bag into Draco's body. Both nurses stepped back, checked the drip rate, and started to walk away. "W...wait, what happens now? Is someone else coming in? What's going to happen?"

The second nurse blinked. "What's going to happen is over the course of the next hour, that bag is going to go into you. Then we'll come and take it down when it's empty. Welcome to Day Zero."

At that, both nurses walked out.

Draco stared for a moment at the bag, then at his portacath, then back at the drawn curtain and glass partition. "Well, that was anticlimactic." And at that, he sat back and started counting snowflakes outside.

About half an hour later, a hospital-gown clad Ron, wearing a surgical mask and gripping an IV pole, limped through the glass door to Draco's bed. Draco looked over at him and worry immediately marred his features. "Ron, are you alright? Oh Merlin, you look like hell, sit down, lie down, do something!" Draco started to push himself up in bed, but Ron held up his hands. "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm stiff as a broomstick, but I'm fine. The anesthesia just lasted a bit longer than they expected on me." Gingerly taking a seat next to Draco's bed, he took the pale boy's hand in his. "How're you doing? Do you feel sick?"

"Bored is more like it. You'd think that a massively important life-saving treatment would at least be more thrilling than sitting here waiting for your bone marrow to drip into my veins."

Ron looked up at the half-empty bag of bone marrow, and visibly paled. He didn't realize that they had taken so much from him. He could just imagine the pain he was going to be in once the medication wore off...but he shook his head and let that thought fly away. Leaning over, he placed a gentle kiss on Draco's cheek, and whispered, "Happy Christmas, love. How do you like your gift?"

Draco smiled, lifted his head and kissed Ron's lips delicately. "It's the best gift I'll ever get, love. Happy Christmas."

* * *

Jackie: OMGCHEESYWTF

Draco-muse: That was a LONG time coming, what prompted this update?

Jackie: The fact that it is long after the last chapter was posted, people were still leaving positive reviews. It made me realize that nursing school be damned, people like this story and I need to finish it!

RakitWhore: I agree, though, about damn time!  
Jackie: I hope you like this new installment, and remember, keep the reviews coming so I don't forget to update again!


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